(With thanks to the one who mowed the path for me to here, fifteen minutes' walk from our farmhouse.)

Fireflies
When I sleep with the trees and the cool night breeze
caresses my skin and the peace flows in
my windows night black there is nothing I lack.
The world is behind me; the earth's got my back.
Sky of cloud, no moon shine, but the fireflies are mine!
They flicker and bright, faithful agents of light
in a world dark and cold they the last of the bold
tell when all light is gone the small spark may glow on.