Poetry

Fireflies

I caught a sliver of
unhurried lightning tonight.
Sitting
still
on a nature-quiet mountain path
breathing in
damp flower-scented summer air
swirling with fireflies.
One left a little trail
on my fingernail
and
for a moment
I lit up, too.
Cross-legged on that
darkened and hushed path
like a child
hands pressed
head bowed
I offered
giddy
sacred
gratitude for bugs.

Kiri Manookin

Self-proclaimed lover of people, words, and wild, Kiri Manookin, M.Ed., is an English instructor who has worked around the world, including Taiwan, Ecuador, Utah, Switzerland, Turkey, and — until the pandemic hit — Nepal. She has been published in a variety of forums, including literary and mindfulness journals, and international education journals. At Utah Valley University, Kiri taught academic writing in an ecopedagogical English language program that took international students to Capitol Reef National Park every semester. During the Wilderness Writing Workshop she led each trip, she marveled at how visibly the wild impacted her, her students, and their writing. Adventurous, determined, happy, funky, fun, and soul-deep, Kiri is sure never to underestimate the depth or width of her capabilities — she has surprised herself one too many times to let that happen.

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