Lightning bugs in the grass...
They're just bits of magic really.
Like the bits of gold that fall from the sky when it rains and the sun is out.
Minutes old light from the sun,
Catching eons old water from the heavens.
Taking it, for a second.
Transforming it.
Alchemy.
The light, deadly when focused, is beauty when it's scattered.
It casts all its personality across the clouds...
Or the clear, blue sky.
And it delights us.
Like lightning bugs in the grass.
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