World of Wonders: In Praise of Fireflies, Whale Sharks, and Other Astonishments

by Aimee Nezhukumatathil

This is the story of how, for years, I pretended I hated the color blue. But what the peacock can do is remind you of a home you will run away from and run back to all your life: My favorite color is peacock blue. My favorite color is peacock blue. My favorite color is peacock blue.

How I wish I could fold inward and shut down and shake off predators with one touch.

Frogs are the great bioindicators of this planet—meaning the health of dancing frogs is indicative of the health of the biosphere itself.

I pick blueberries with the baby strapped to my chest, and the lines come to me. Sometimes, if I am lucky, I will remember them when I sit down to write later that day. Mostly, they remain snagged and tangled on the berry branch.

Absolutely, positively no poems are written this month, although I do sneak in one or two lines while waiting at the dentist. Daffodil. Daffodil. Daffodil. Tulip.

Mommy, Mommy, my son calls out as he hoists his hand puppet over my shoulder, I am a whale shark, and I need a snack, please. He crawls into my lap and talks with the puppet for a bit before he makes the puppet turn back to me and ask, Where my shark family? Where they? The whale shark connected to my son contracts, then expands—its furry, pink mouth wide again—and pauses there. In my mind that puppet mouth is still open, waiting for an answer. Perhaps that answer swims in that giant tank, where so many of the beautiful and mighty sharks I once encountered have long since died and have been replaced and replaced and replaced.