Fireflies by R. Tagore

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Fireflies

My fancies are fireflies, —
Specks of living light
twinkling in the dark.

he voice of wayside pansies,
that do not attract the careless glance,
murmurs in these desultory lines.

In the drowsy dark caves of the mind
dreams build their nest with fragments
dropped from day’s caravan.

Spring scatters the petals of flowers
that are not for the fruits of the future,
but for the moment’s whim.

Joy freed from the bond of earth’s slumber
rushes into numberless leaves,
and dances in the air for a day.

My words that are slight
my lightly dance upon time’s waves
when my works havy with import have gone down.

Mind’s underground moths
grow filmy wings
and take a farewell flight
in the sunset sky.

The butterfly counts not months but moments,
and has time enough.

My thoughts, like spark, ride on winged surprises,
carrying a single laughter.
The tree gazes in love at its own beautiful shadow
which yet it never can grasp.

Let my love, like sunlight, surround you
and yet give you illumined freedom.

(one of Irving’s favorite poems of all time)

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About quarryhillcreativecenterVT

I am the daughter of the founders of Quarry Hill Creative Center in Rochester, VT. I've been a writer all my life, and also love to draw in pastel, like my mother. My father taught me to write and many other things (rather as Prospero taught Miranda). I learned many things from my mother too-- not just how to draw, but how to be caring and kind to animals and things that can not protect themeselves. "They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain." That has been her central point of view and is one of Quarry Hill's mottos. We welcome visitors, love children, and have places to rent and sell if anyone wants to come live in the beauty of the Vermont Mountains. ladybellefiske@gmail.com

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