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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