The Long Day’s Golden Edge
By June, the days are stretching to their fullest. The sun lingered long into evening, casting a golden edge on everything it touched. I found myself walking an old gravel path at dusk, following a line of swaying grasses and buzzing crickets.
The warmth of the day still hung in the air, though night approached. Fireflies began to rise from the undergrowth, blinking slowly like thoughts trying to form.
A child sat by a wooden fence, watching them with open awe. I sat beside her in silence.
After a while, she asked, “Why do they shine?”
I smiled. “Because it’s how they talk to each other.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I think the night listens.”
In that simple exchange, I felt the teaching arise: the light we carry within doesn’t need to be loud or big. Even a soft flicker matters in the great conversation of the world.
