The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter—’tis the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.

― Mark Twain, from “The Art of Authorship,” 1890, quoting his friend Josh Billing

•••

When the words aren’t coming—
when the right words aren’t coming—

when you’re searching for the lightning
and finding only the lightning bug, you might

find yourself singing the I’m-washed-up,
done-for-good, why-am-I-wasting-my-time

blues that make you think you’d have
been better off letting your grandma teach

you to crochet or develop some patience
for jigsaw puzzles, or anything that doesn’t

involve words or sentences or metaphor
or, heaven forbid, poetry—any of that

silly writer stuff. Go mow the lawn, maybe,
or walk the dog, if you have lawn or dog.

See if the sky looks dark enough for the potential
of lightning that—please, God—might strike

you (metaphorically, of course) with inspiration.
And if not, take yourself outside into the night,

and, if you’re in a place that fireflies also call home,
look for flashing dots of light that unmask

the soft-winged, bioluminescent beetles. On some
stormy summer nights you might luckily catch

lightning electrifying the sky at the same time
lightning bugs Morse Code their presence—

self-illumination to ward off predators, to attract
mates, to provocatively lure unsuspecting prey.

Lightning and lightning bugs in the same sentence,
light attracting light, for you to gently capture

and tuck into a glass jar, to study their little
flashlight selves blinking on and off, off and on,

before you release them into a poem.

•••

See fireflies (aka lightning bugs) in action in this lovely two-minute video,
“Firefly Experience—Summer Night with Fireflies (Lightning Bugs)”
by Radim Schreiber.