I’ve never seen a glowworm
but as a boy I trapped jarfuls
of fireflies to serve
as nightlights in my bedroom.
Even when I threw in a handful of grass,
assuming that’s what they ate,
they’d never last the night.
I don’t see many lightning bugs
these days— never heard my grandchildren
squeal in the sinking twilight—
hunting the chartreuse glow of insects
trying to get laid.
Soon the night will only be lit by stars,
to our shame. We humans have shone so brightly,
for so long, it’s past time for us to fade.
(For Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt.)