the Conquest of the Firefly a fiery glow invades the tent, then dark descends again ~ the tarp of midnight hangs o'erhead; the Moon, sole lantern still aglow, radiates a dim soft gleam its shadows strewn about the tent personified, arise to life, and crickets sing their lullabies, beguiling men to sleep... swaddled in their sleeping bags, their snores are mingled with my thoughts while ...