Glow worm shines,
a miniscule moon on the bedroom floor,
shining in the dark of its lonely universe.
I don’t wonder how it got into my dark,
shuttered from the sun and moon,
bringing its moonlight,
but I watch its moonlight fade,
as the insect fades, this heat too hot,
too little rain, the grass too dry,
and it is one sadness too much.
I take it in my hand.
There is lavender beneath the window,
a better place for anything wild,
but a night breeze plucks the faded moon.
It makes no resistance, the luciole,
falls into the night,
its star is fallen,
its time done.