Glowing golden, gently gliding in the humid air against a deep fuschia blanket that is slipping to darker purple. You flit between the others, dancing with them, exchanging friendly luminated greetings. I could just pluck you out of the sky and put you in a jar, my treasured firefly.
Solemnly singing, quietly chirping in the cooler grass beside bohemoth trees that are swinging slowly, to and fro. You lament to the others, chirping with them, sharing saddened warbling melodies. I could just scoop you off of the ground and put you in a jar, my cherished cricket.
If I could take you and hold you and keep you and protect you and enjoy you and cheer you and love you, I would.