I'm not 100% sure when I wrote this...I sort of worked on it throughout my day...odd as it sounds, I'm also not sure what I'm really talking about here...I think I may have gotten all metaphorical.

The Fireflies

The fireflies swoop, swerve, and swing
in intricate circles and tenative arcs,
losing and finding one another in the night
across a forest dappled in auroras
made by shafts of moonlight
and the light of stars unseen,
guided only by each other's golden glow.

Seed's Poetry Corner