From Her New Collection, Night Owl
“Firefly Ars Poetica”
It’s no secret I’m a summer gal. I adore the bevy & bounty of stonefruit & sun-drenched gardens, pool-plashes from my teen sons, &so much green & bloom & chirp in the thick canopy of trees archedabove me. When we enter a season of shorter days & winter, I toowant to overwinter like bumble bees, brown bears, & wood frogs.I look to my favorite summer creature-the firefly—to help guidethe way. I prefer small lamps. I prefer no music, save the times Ican hear my own heart slam underneath my blouse. I prefer writingeverything by pencil: the shhh-shhh-shhh of the lead on the page &the satisfying scritch of crossing out feels like I’m makingsomething. Clicks of the keyboard sound like high heels walkingnowhere in particular. Sometimes I revise. Sometimes I stıckon a word & cannot move on—like my shield or scutellum(the hard, triangle-shaped covering on a firefly’s body wherethe wings begin) makes me feel shy, protective. Sometimes I dial upthe music & sound play. I revise. When the music of a sentence seemsto be nonexistent, I worry. I revise again. One thing to remember:sometimes you are in a quiet season. Sometimes you can hearthe patter of a leaf (or three) muttering at your feet. Maybe you reador scoop & sieve books for later. Fireflies spend most of their brief lifeas larvae after all, covered under leaf litter, gathering up food duringthe winter to gain strength. Do not worry if this is not your season.It will come. I am certain of it. It will come. In the world of fireflies,that quiet is called the larval stage. And one of the gabillion kajilionmagical things about fireflies? Don’t forget—even their larvae glow.
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From Night Owl, by Aimee Nezhukumatathil. Courtesy Ecco.
Source:
lithub.com
