Insect-like
Insect-like, I spend my summer months
flying lazy circles in the heat.
Instinct carries my heavy presence
from porch lamp to porch lamp,
lapping up the artificial day that I'm missing now.
You are electric, bright, purple light.
Caged and swaying, you fill in the dark.
You are a neon danger. CAUTION in all caps.
Defined by your rarity, you incinerate
anyone who can only afford singed wings.
We meet in the damp midnight of July.
You're as real as the Moon to me.
I will not regret my need to fly
in search of some hole to fill.
The zap of your love will be enough to feel.
Posted Jul 19, 2021, 1:13 PM UTC
This is beautiful.
The final stanza, all about the love that is felt, is truly beautiful. Summer is the most intoxicating season to me, with everything growing and full of potential, and this sums it up really well. Such a good job!
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