Fireflies

We sat out late, the fire
on which we cooked our supper
had begun to burn down to coals.
Slowly among the trees
warm points of light began
to glow and darken, and glow again.
They were not drifting sparks,
nor were they glimpses
of stars through the leaves.
They were strange creatures,
simply named, who had come
as though kindred to our flame,
and as it died down they carried
it on, in their way,
illuminating our conversation
which grew to be, in its way,
praise of these bugs.