The Jar

There's this jar.
And it's huge.
Smudged a bit.
Really old.
The lid is rusted.
It has holes poked in it.
There are fireflies inside.
Glowing warmly with their inner light.

Some of the fireflies bang against the glass,.
Others wait calmly.

They are all beautiful in their own separate ways.

The ones on the outside tell stories of what they have seen.
Of big skies and clean air.

The fireflies inside the jar can't hear them.
Not unless they fly near the holes in the lid and listen real hard.

Away from the constant droning buzz of the other fireflies.