A Morning Release

The firefly within my snail shell had dimmed with the arrival of dawn. I knelt on the swept gravel by the porch beam and gently lowered the shell sideways onto a flat moss tuft. It crawled forward over the calcium lip, testing the morning air before spreading its wings and drifting toward the clover fringe. With the lantern empty, I unslung my bow, checked the tautness of the string against my forearm, and gave the quiet timber post a steady nod. Clear air ahead.