Night Sky

Stars do indeed twinkle, I have seen them:
pricked into the blue canvas of the sky,
a flicker of pearl pulsing on the eye
out of the deep velvet dark –
winkingly –
with each its own lustrous light.
The rite of dusk so many nights
unobserved under cityscape smudges
is here piercingly clear –
on the wild of the moorland,
in thick country darknesses.
I fiercely wonder at your brilliance –
and try to claim your light –
eyes full wide
focusing the night.
But I do not know you – you,
light years beyond my ken,
hanging like a symbol or a metaphor
above my head.
You’re dead above me,
your light the last dying glimmer
of your living glamour.
I only know you in your
death throes
so far removed
from the everyday.
O let me look at you this way –
dying beautifully,
eternally,
where I am not known.

The owl’s cry is a tremor
of my wonder,
and voices it better.

7 thoughts on “Night Sky

  1. There was no space to comment on your “About” page so I’ll comment here. Walking and pausing in nature resonates with me, especially as creative inspiration. I too listened to the Elizabeth Gilbert TED talk and was inspired and challenged. The idea of creative thoughts coming from outside of us is both exciting and a wee bit scary at the same time. And as you say, paths need writing as well as walking. I wish you well in your endeavours and look forward to reading more from you.

    Liked by 1 person

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