When sultry summer sunsets tease
The dusk in lazy, languid light,
And hazy humming bumblebees,
In poky, pollen-heavy flight,
Drift dull and dopey on the breeze
Before the newborn night,
I watch the flitting fireflies,
And strain my ears to hear the shrill
Of tree frogs singing Day’s demise
In Dusk’s domain. And with a thrill
I heed what, wordless, they advise:
Be still, be still, be still.

L. Mack