I might have been around ten or eleven years old,
visiting relatives in their Appalachian Mountain home.
We could not wait until the fireflies began
their summer night’s performance, as I recall.
The view from my reflections returns me there.
Across the road, my grandfather is firing a pistol
into the side of the mountain for practice.
Pop, pop, pop! I worry about the mountain
and if it was harmed by the pistol’s report.
Our great-aunt picks up a slow-moving, winged beetle
and shows us how to carefully tie a thread to its back leg
and watch it fly in a tethered circle – GENTLY, GENTLY!
These tattered and faded memories remain for now.
Intangible keepsakes that will pass to no one.
But I assume the beetles are generally pleased these days,
since folks really don’t tie thread to their legs anymore.