Something Held On To

Today I just have a little poem for you. Hopefully you can figure out what location it is about. Its a place pretty dear to my heart.

Generations of children have stood watch here.
run barefooted, or hid flags in shadows.
It is a fair view from this plateau,
the young still run, still chase, still find.

Not often does light hide beauty.
Isn't till nightfall that I find what is mine.
Embers grow tired and songs are fleeting,
Lights, as in chorus, show up on time.

I always find myself here.
Near the seldom used beach,
and unpicked strawberry fields.
Just 'neath the farmer's reach.

They start to dimly pulse,
a field full of flashing lights.
Grander than superbowl kickoff,
there, alone, these firefly sights.

I wrote this poem about my favorite place at camp. And its funny, because so often, people are taking pictures the other way. The sunset there is gourgeous, and the colors are really amazing through the trees. But after most people have gone to bed, there is an incredible view, made magnificent because of the hundreds of fireflies. I'm not sure that a camera would capture it well anyway.  I'll have to show you some time.