When the Fireflies Return

The gathering of souls
around a table where luck
brings delicious food to share
and neighbors laugh together
and find new stories to weave
is feast enough for a hot day
at the end of May

but then the air cools
and the night sinks into lovely
darkness and magic arises
from the field across the way
as the fireflies return.

This morning the aspergillum
sprinkled Holy Water
on babies and elderly ladies
who startled a little
at the wonder
of water.

And I cried for joy
in the House of God,
like I often do,
knowing that tongues and fire
are not far from the doors
of my heart
and that the languages
of all my lives
flow in each tear
that falls down my cheeks
and into these sacred days.

What else can I do
but smile? Mosquitos bite
my calves and I shiver
in the moist air
of almost summer.
What else can I do
but  fall to my knees
and give thanks
for this day
that blinks with the sea
of iridescent flashes
in the field
that makes my home
remember mystery
every day.