poetry marathon: prompt #9, use minimum 5 of 10 words given

‘summer night…perfection of thought…’

   with apologies to Wallace Stevens ~

Despite the rain, the fireflies flicker.

At the treeline, they hang in branches

diamante on blue so dark it burns.

Our house becomes a cottage

in the dark, shrinks strangely

in the summer heat, its recent build

only a mask for four walls and a fence.

A gentle lethargy falls on us – velvety,

still. Cicadas sing, moths dart into light.

The night descends.  

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