at night, I create

as the day ends the thoughts begin

like fireflies, they become more prominent as the sun goes down 

and the harder I look the more I see

if I am lucky I may catch one 

observe it’s intricacy in a glass jar where it may blossom into a poem 

or shrivel into a worry, expressing its distaste for captivity through insecurity 

most of the time they fly away 

only to return the next night 

and the next 

I am not sure how I feel about these thoughtful, nervous fireflies

depends on how I treat them I suppose