The Mason jar
sits clear and old
on the front step beyond the door,
its collar lost;
the punctured lid rests
on the rough cement
having let all the fireflies
free nights before;
it sits empty
but for the curves of dried grass;
clear and old it sits,
the wonderment of childhood it holds.
Published by Amy @ Generous Wisdom | Spacious Heart
Amy's work centers around the embodied experience of love's spaciousness and is grounded in brain, body, and heart-based wisdom. She teaches yoga, meditation, & writing as a way to foster tender self-love that supports empathy and compassion-driven work in the world.
Check out her bio @amysecrist.com.
View all posts by Amy @ Generous Wisdom | Spacious Heart
Ahhh…the jars of fireflies are so much a part of childhood!!! Lovely piece and execution…I love the detail of the lost collar! So enjoyable to read once again!!!