By Janis Trubic
The moon, new, lost, drowned in a night devoured by thunder. Frightened, vanishing stars simply give up. Now the end is at hand. Lightning promises that quick verdict, one that is overturned. Kindred spirits answer, boldly defiant, jubilant, sparkling. Fireflies. Lightning bugs. Night angels. Impossibly, happily aglow at death's door. Alone, bewitched, I witness this miracle, knowing that when my time comes, I will close my eyes and see fireflies dancing me to God.