Three feet above the lawn.
The child runs to it.
Like a moth to fire, drawn.
The light blinks out, blinks on again.
To darkness turns the dusk.
The child looks here and there.
To touch the light, he must.
His mother turns her head to see
Her child, running to and fro.
Alarmed? On no, she understands,
To these fireflies he must go.
Fireflies dancing in the night,
Three feet above the lawn.
Captured by a single child.
Like a moth to fire is drawn.