Flash, drift, darkness, flash
their glow shines ‘cross the field
warming the cool northern breeze
blowing through bulrush blades.
And, solitarily, I watch the dance,
longing to join. To flash and drift
through any blade, against any breeze,
with you for whom I flash.
Watching, ever watching, I search
for that single flash that, launching lightening,
will speed me straight to you
who cannot—or will not—see through the dark.
So, here I wait, near the waving ocean of grass
and amidst a flashing pool of light
in my own black hole of sorts
watching, waiting, hoping for your flash.
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