The limits of luminescence

Last night a firefly lost its way and wound up in our bedroom.

I don’t know if he slipped through an unseen crevice in the screened windows, or took a wrong turn from the lawn through the door in mid-dance.

But there he was, flitting an erratic path through the inky midnight air, blinking like crazy in a valiant and futile display of luminescence for the mate that was not there.

And as I watched him criss-cross the room for what seemed like hours, it struck me that he was a flickering, living picture of loneliness.

Just a firefly, I know. It’s strange how something can be trivial and poignant all at the same time.