At the End of Oak Street

Down at the end of Oak Street, I hear there's a woods where at night the fireflies still glow. Under the eaves of the boughs and the leaves of the trees whose roots sink deep into the earth, they blink and shine after the sun has gone down and the darkness of night has spread out from the low places and the bayous.

When the wind is still and the air is still cool, I hear they blink and shine like they did at night in the yard where I grew up. I can almost see them, although I have never been down that far. I can see them dancing at the edges of my eyesight as I try to spot where the next one will glow.

And I can feel the coolness of the springtime air. And I can see the pitch black of the tree branches overhead. And I can smell the pine needles underfoot.

At the end of Oak Street.

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Night thoughts about Oak Street, Dickinson TX

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