Horizontal, in the darkest spot.
A window on the celestial
Milky Way, framed in outline
By Wild rose, hawthorn and lilac.

There are familiar constellations,
In their place, and beyond a
Countless myriad flickering.
And then further barely perceptible
The misty spur of our galaxy, known
But not well, too far for us; for now?

Now too, unlike those days
Stargazing with unrequited lovers
There appear and meander,
Cris-crossing, hurtling,
Man’s own stars of steel.

This night alone in Perseid’s wake,
First one, like the silver surfer, streaks
Across the sky, dazzling the eye
So low and fast, long, then gone.

Others barely twinkle or flash like
A blinking star or a bubble bursting
Or like the under belly of flying
Gull caught briefly by the moonlight

Time passes and the cold gathers,
Eyes widen to take in more space
To catch the full dance across the night
To feel of the celestial melody one more time.