Cold Fireflies

Cold Fireflies

Right-minded so far today

after three months of crazy—

what relief can compare?

It’s too deep for joy. Too delicate.

Three, four hours now since

waking in the still bed,

waking slowly, the covers                                    

not torn apart, the walls blank and holding.  

No breakthroughs yet. But

how long can it last?                                            

I’m half afraid to write these lines.                       

Even thinking them feels reckless.  

Just now. Watch these specks                              

of snow, so tiny, so intermittent,

appear and disappear in the air,

jig this way and dance that, cold            

fireflies, some finding their way

to the dark ground, where they melt.