Synchronized, Fireflies,

I saw it all with my own eyes,
high in the Smokies under rumbling skies,
in a field of wild grass and blinking fireflies.

The creek, nearby, made a babbling, gurgling sound,
as if were trying to stay off the ground,
it danced and cart wheeled just like a clown.

My camp it was set, it was here I would tarry,
dinner was done, and topped with blueberries.
“Oh!” the trail magic, bring on the fairies.

As dusk settled in and I settled down,
the crickets chirped loudly, I made not a sound,
for some thing was happening there on the ground.

At first the fireflies blinked, and lay all around,
as if they were beacons, that sprang from the ground.
Then up they all rose, a speckled fog with no sound.

On they went blinking, with no pattern in sight,
but then as I watched, the rhythm of lights
it fell into sequence, and followed their flight,

they circled the field, a stream of green lights,
in pulses of three, they lit up the night,
then all would go dark, no blink in sight.

For two beats of darkness I followed their flight,
then like a switch on came the lights
and on and on this went into the night.

It was as if the fireflies, that flew in the wall,
were wired into sequence, from one down through all,
and passed the light forward, with never a stall.

I lay there an hour, amazed by the flight
and then just like that, they were thru for the night.
I slid into my tent, and sleeping bag. Good night.

With fireflies still blinking, in the back of my mind
I slipped into slumber while thinking, they do blink in time .
and so went the night, and it was sublime.

Then, the next day when I did arise,
and as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes,
there was the field, still surrounded by trees,
and there were the birds, and there were the bees,
and even the leaves, way up in the trees,
seemed glad to meet me, and to put me at ease.

And there was the creek still babbling, and rambling about,
jumping over stones as it tried to get out ,
but the banks, they did hold it, for they were so stout.

I broke my camp and packed it away
and shoulder the pack and set off for the day
with visions of fireflies forever tucked away.