Iowa and it is quiet in the evening, just enough wind to carry far-away baseball games floating, cars snapping away on the cracks in the highway, cicadas sleeping, crickets waking. Night birds. Frogs. Deep green and blue, flickery electric lights on the horizon.
The fireflies are in millions, they swoop low and search-light the lawn, float up as they light. Out over the fields: if you unfocus your eyes you can see the entire constellation appear, disappear around you, change and appear again, musical.