A life in Kyoto.Season of the Supernatural.


A life in Kyoto. Season of the Supernatural.

Here in Kyoto, at night down by the river, the fireflies have begun to reveal themselves; dancing in the bright green fashion just along the river’s edge.

And for three nights I have gone to the river to watch them, admiring their graceful fairytale soiree. I haven’t seen fireflies since I was a small child, staying out late, playing in the dark of a Colorado summertime…

It saddens me, how we don’t have fireflies in California, but I feel so lucky now just to be here – in Kyoto getting to see them again!

Making my way down to the river for the third night in a row, I notice people have put up tiny blinking lights in their yards. I wonder, is it to celebrate the season of the fireflies?

And down by the river, the very young and the very old – everyone seems to come together like they are family and coming too – are strolling young lovers, and all together – everyone joins to watch the fireflies.

Everyone admiring the fireflies tiny brite green spectacles; looking like the softest of fireworks, silently exploding as a show of shining green, and cascading like the embers of an emerald fire – drifting over the river, into the bushes and there – embering like gorgeous fairy sparks.So magical!

I wonder what our ancestors thought of such tiny, magical little fires? So supernatural looking! Surely even once our ancestors discovered it was an actual bug; even so,  our ancestors must have still thought the power of the fiery green lights supernatural.

Even now, the spectacle of the fireflies burning brite – still looks to me – supernatural.

And off in the grass, beneath the fireflies, all the frogs seem to chant and sing… I wonder if the frogs do it for the dance of the fireflies?

It seems so.



It reminds me  a little bit of something I wrote maybe ten years ago, back when I lived in Hollywood.

I day dream of fireflies…

In the light of day, I close my wounded eyes and dream,

dream of moonlight serrated against the dark suede of night.

Where stars wet, cold and burning bright – fill my eyes like heavenly white tears.

And the tears falling from my eyes – become – fireflies.

Fireflies scattering in the wind, flitting through my mind…

Brightly ending my falling fears.
Perhaps at last my fears fly away.


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