Do you think the sun gets lonely up there,

Trying to show the lesser stars that they too can radiate at the same frequency?

I’ll bet the moon is tired of changing the tides

Just to feel low when they’re high.

Memories of summer keep me warm.

I remember the heat,

Feeling sensual in the sense I wanted to rip off my skin

To feel lighter in spirit.

I wanted something within me to be luminous

Like the fireflies

Despite the feral beast cooped up in December’s cage—

I took June for granted.

And slept all throughout July.

August was a fever dream.

September flew by.

October summoned restless spirits.

And I spent every day of November high.

Now in dreaded December,

It is too cold for fireflies.