Heaven Descended

Children snag fireflies in the fallow field;

Return home, cupped hands lighthouses of flight,

pulsing songbirds encaged in flesh and bone;

Later, lodged in a slick-skulled mason jar

pulled from the cupboard,

set before the veined

window --

the bronze polished disk slipped open --

handfuls of fireflies folded like scarabs

beneath a single gust of grass,

night's storm

angled in;

dampening the billowing

dress of the white curtains.

Each flickering

streetlamp beyond multiplied by random

bulbs of rain

speckled their impossible

glass apocalyptic --

Constellations

descended to this echo of heaven.

Andy McFadyen-Ketchum

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