Small glass globes at the top of 

green wrought iron, line our street  


Each hold a small handful of flickering wires 

no bigger than lightning bugs 


Sometime near dusk

when the sun retreats behind rooftops


Dogs and crickets will hear their music first 

a high pitched hum 


as they each spring to life 

gradually, then all at once


Soon they will glow in unison

their minature yellow moons


                                                lined up against the darkness 






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