We are silverfish under moonlight,
the glow of fireflies at dusk,
the warm embers of a woodstove.
We are calloused hands and hand-me-downs,
old dungarees and time-tested recipes.
We carry trays, dig holes, water plants,
sing children to sleep.
We migrate from Montauk to Miami, Paris to Phuket. Aspen to Acadia.
We are in factories and in fields,
in bodegas and barns,
in kitchens and classrooms and carnivals.