Fireflies

I crept downstairs

and fumbled with the latches

on the windows.

I wanted to let the morning air in,

and last night out.

The sun was rising over the park

that we see from our living room.

Fresh air flooded in ,

it was clean and clear and went

right down to my toes.

All the unspoken words of last night

fluttered around in my head

like fireflies in a summer jar.

You know the sort,

the ones that sit on the porches of Oregon?

Today the sun has come again.

Fire fly in

the April sky.