I chase little Fireflies—
I catch them in cupped hands—
And though I lose them, still I try—
Following to greener lands.
The Fae hold court in oak trees—
In Spring do newborns bloom—
They ride on butterflies and bees—
O’er them my shadow looms.
I plan to place them in a jar—
To catch myself some Joy—
But creatures of fleeting Freedom are—
In captivity, destroyed.
~
Photo by Rajesh Rajput on Unsplash
Published by Rachel Sandell
Rachel Sandell is a writer and editor from Washington State, where rainy days necessitate long books, hot chocolate, and plenty of magic. Though she specializes in speculative fiction and harbors a love for the dark and enchanting, she also dabbles in poetry and is the archive project coordinator for Fireweed: Poetry of Oregon. She is an MFA graduate from the Rainier Writing Workshop, and her short stories have appeared in SORTES magazine, Night Picnic Press, and Leading Edge magazine.
View all posts by Rachel Sandell