first lightning

The thing I'll miss the most
about summertime in Indiana
is the way it creeps in,
and pounces when no one is looking.

Or the first lightning bug's glow
against a dimmed field of overgrown grass.
I'll miss the mossy ledge of quarried limestone,
older and wiser than me,

and the luminescent Dairy Queen sign
that seems to never burn out.
Backyard swing that can finally be swung
on "the longest day of the year, 

Or is it the brightest?" My little brother asks me.
Heat lightning proudly boasting its arrival
into the summer night.
Does it know that no one hears it thunder?