A Glow in the Jar

Leaving the quiet shed, I padded across the cooling lawn back toward the house. Sitting on the second wooden step of the porch was an old glass jam jar, left forgotten near a rusty metal lantern. Inside the glass, a tiny firefly was pulsing with a dim, greenish glow. I lowered myself onto the step without making a sound, resting my paws flat against the weathered timber. Each time the little light flickered, its reflection drifted softly across the smooth glass curve. I leaned my chin toward it, watching the gentle rhythm pulse in the evening quiet.