Small glass globes at the top of
green wrought iron, line our street
Each hold a small handful of flickering wires
no bigger than lightning bugs
Sometime near dusk
when the sun retreats behind rooftops
Dogs and crickets will hear their music first
a high pitched hum
as they each spring to life
gradually, then all at once
Soon they will glow in unison
their minature yellow moons
lined up against the darkness