*for b.ware*
Dream Chasers
Running after fly beats
like they're fireflies.
We lie in wait for them
with empty jelly jars in one hand
and the lids in the other,
determined to fill our jars with
bug bodies.
The field of dreams is one acre,
but from the yard's edge, it seems to stretch miles.
And lightenin' bugs only appear at night.
But we chase on.
We pluck their wings to fill music notebook pages.
The neon green film on their butts
smears the paper like pen ink.
It glows and comes to life.
~cdw
9/11/10
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