Warning to Firefly-Catchers

By Alexis Casner, 17, Minnesota

moving in the clandestine   

hidden in the brush 

i trudge along the undergrowth 

cloaked in musky dusk 

my soles embrace the dampened earth 

that chitters underneath me 

two mealworms kiss under my toe  

their lives untouched by reason 

dark water gurgles far below 

its eerie face reflecting, 

reminiscent of the glow 

the fireflies are letting 

twigs and leaves begin to dance 

following the wind 

it whispers far from distant lands 

but I cannot bear the din 

if i journeyed to the core, 

if I clawed until I tore, 

if all the warnings I ignored, 

i’d meet the bones of those before 

this grove holds secrets deep within 

of ancient lands 

and daring men 

i tremble underneath the glen 

of all that will and all that’s been 

---

During the summer before my freshman year of high school, I suffered from horrible bouts of nightly insomnia. Instead of taking melatonin or drinking a glass of water, I would slip out the back porch and make my way to a tiny stretch of woods slumbering beside our neighborhood park. I found that a lullaby composed of frog-croaks and chirping cicadas were much more effective than white noise machines. This poem is a reference to those summer nights and how I felt being surrounded by just the trees, the creek, and my thoughts. While not entirely soothing, those nights settled something inside me—despite how frightening everything seems when your only guiding lights are fireflies.

Photo by Krzysztof Maksimiuk