Like tiny kisses, pecks, perhaps
On cheeks young and old.
Travel long distances, they do,
Whistling as they go,
Fireflies in the darkening eve.

Joyful, two growing girls, glowing,
Learn brands of doing
Only lightening bugs can tell.

Magic and science are on their fingertips.
Glimmering tests
Of knowing,
Then, knowing what to do with knowing.

Keena, taller by a bit, thinks they’re brilliant jewels,
So asks them,
Questions their luminosity.
‘’How and why can you shine .”
Curiosity plays off her brain waves, one by one.

And Mira always thriving on a dare, catches one in her hand
While handing up-side-down on a fast swinging trapeze.
She wants to know
“What are your names?”
When none replies, she gives them names, wild ones for sure.

With new-found magic, miracles in hand,
New friends who skirt the ground with ease,
At home, now new,
They send their kisses through the night to
Others needing magic.

It’s their doing that peoples the universe
With spectral hope,
And names too delicious to repeat,
Unless in whispers—
“Pumpkin, Puff, Ghost, and Don’t.”

Charlene James-Duguid
Amissville,Virginia
July 9, 2018