I stepped outside last night right after dark to catch a glimpse of Lexington’s fireworks. A neighbor told me he had viewed the display from the backyard of a house three doors down, so I figured there was a chance.

At first I saw only smoke, evidence of local fire crackers and bottle rockets. But from time to time I’d hear the deep boom of the real thing. And then I spotted the colors, the reds and greens barely visible through the trees. Light forms pulsing up and out.

It was a cool evening and fireflies were winking ever upward in the sky. There were more than I see at home, more than I’d seen any other night this year. Their glimmers mixed with the manufactured ones in the sky. The effect was of a fairy land of dancing light. It was a mutual rejoicing, of earth and of all the creatures on earth.

It wasn’t what I saw later on television, the spectacular fireworks from the nation’s capital (pictured above) that I watched last year from across the river. Last night’s light show was too ephemeral to be photographed. It was a moment of holding my breath. It was a moment of wonder.