The Magic Moment

As I write, dusk has begun to turn to dark, and the remains of the day are fading over the horizon. I am on the front porch, drinking in the mystical transition from day to night. I love this moment in summer evenings, this laying to rest of one world, and the awakening of another. I'm captivated by it, year after year, here in the heart of the old South.
In late June to early July, the fading light of day can still be observed as late as 9:30-45pm. The transition is palpable. The birds begin to quiet down, the squirrels and chipmunks have turned in for the night, and a subtle yet amazing transition occurs. The songs of birds are quietly replaced with the songs of crickets and cicadas, the bees in the trees are replaced with sparkling, dancing fireflies, and the frenzied activities of various diminutive, bushy-tailed mammalia are replaced with the croaks and peeps of frogs and toads. In fact, a little green tree frog just hopped onto our front door glass and has begun to scale it upward, under the watchful eye of the cats from behind the door.
Sitting in silence here, my ears filled with the night sounds, my eyes filled with the sight of our front property awash in fireflies, I am speechless in the experience. A phrase I've used before is "hints of Heaven, glimpses of glory." It certainly is.
Life is so hurried so often, I've lost focus on trying to immerse myself in these fleeting moments. It's time to recapture the wonder again, the peace of just being in it, and the reverent intimacy of worshiping the Creator of it all. The King of Kings and Lord of Lords. The God of summer storms and fireflies, the Giver of gentle evening breezes and green tree frogs.