Suddenly an insight,
It matters less that I
will never snorkel Galapagos.

No need for bonfires,
limbs are bare. Fireflies
pack it in without complaint.

In October, days grow shorter.
Shadows seem to follow night, Still
starlight wets my face with wonder.

Clouds and waning sun bewilder,
I dream of making candles
out of moonlight.

 

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