Time flies and fireflies, lightning strikes and lightning bugs, don’t bug the fireflies nor make light of them. They are energy conservative and working their tails off and on. I believe they signal summer is nigh like the honeysuckle shedding its sweet perfume. Butter fingers and butterflies, time slips away from us all but I am holding on to the wings of spring in my heart. I’m no mastermind with a master plan, just a slave to the belief that love and peace are all we need to become poetry.