I am such a dork. I admit it.

[ceebeegee]

Hey, if Frederick Richard Pickersgill can do it...

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Orsino and Viola

Two fireflies, shimmering in a sphere--
One on the ground, one circling in the air.
His lunar gaze restlessly scans Illyr
Seeking a consort proud, a queen divine
To crown with jewels rare and verses fine.
His shrouded mate yearns for a simpler prize--
A circlet frail, of bones and eglantine.

Seaward she waits, beneath a mirror darkly
Past delicate reefs of wit, disguise and guile
Through clouded waters, opal depths of brine,
Her green and loyal heart awaits below,
Sounding a cadence sweet and sure and whole.
Her song cannot be drown'd; untam'd, it must--
It will be heard, it swims like newborn soul,
Luminous as the winged glow at dusk
Amid the grass, to now await the night
Flickering tender, a soft and steady sign.
'Til now the one above espies her light,
And mimics with his own response sublime
A melancholy echo to her shine.

One on the ground, one answering above,
Two fireflies in unison--one love.

Comments

[dry-2olives.livejournal.com]

That's lovely. I can hear your voice while I'm reading it.

[ceebeegee.livejournal.com]

Thank you :) I got the idea from something I said to Ben--we were emailing about the Trevor Nunn '96 Twelfth Night and I said that the Orsino and Viola scenes seemed a bit muted, and then teasingly "nothing, of course, like Kenneth and me, who shimmer like fireflies, one on the ground, one circling in the air" (that's how fireflies mate).

I liked that impromptu image, and decided to explore it further.