It’s that magic time between day and night; the air heavy with humidity and completely still. The birds are singing their final songs of the day and everything has the fuzzy look of twilight.
The dance begins. First one, then another; soon a dozen or so hesitant glimmers of tiny lights glow in the grass and on the plants near the ground. Slowly, as if they encourage each other, the fireflies come to life as everything else is falling into sleep.
It’s a silent show of bioluminescence, now increasing in quantities. Soon there are hundreds floating and flickering above the ground, slowly rising, moving to each other in an ancient dance only the fireflies understand.
They rise into the trees making them look like they are filled with soft white, glittering lights that without words somehow convey joy.
The show continues for hours, eventually slowing as the night goes on. Finally, even the fireflies sleep.