Mae sat on the back step in the summer dusk, and the fireflies came out.
Blink, went one. Blink, blink, went another. They floated over the grass like tiny lamps.
"Where do fireflies go at night?" asked Mae.
"Let's watch," said Dad. So they watched, very still.
The fireflies floated up over the garden. They floated past the beans, and the beans nodded.
They floated over the flowers, and the flowers were closing their petals for the night.
They floated along the fence, and one by one, they settled down on the tall grass at the very edge of the yard.
Blink, went the last one. And then, softly, it went out.
"They are sleeping in the long grass," whispered Mae.
"Just like you will be soon," said Dad.
Mae looked at the grass. It was dark and quiet, and now and then, a tiny light would glow, and fade, like someone breathing.
"Goodnight, fireflies," said Mae.
Dad picked her up, and she rested her head on his shoulder. By the time they reached the door, she was fast asleep too.