Mountain Visit

I might have been around ten or eleven years old,

visiting relatives in their Appalachian Mountain home.

We could not wait until the fireflies began

their summer night’s performance, as I recall.

The view from my reflections returns me there.

 

Our great-aunt picks up a slow-moving, winged beetle

and shows us how to carefully tie a thread to its back leg

and watch it fly in a tethered circle – GENTLY, GENTLY!

 

Across the road, my grandfather is firing a pistol

into the side of the mountain for practice.

Pop, pop, pop! I worry about the mountain

and if it was harmed by the pistol’s report.

 

Tattered and faded memories remain for now.

Intangible keepsakes that will pass to no one.

But I assume the beetles are generally pleased these days,

since folks really don’t tie thread to their legs anymore.