Dear Ones,
Did some of you
venture out into the darkness to view the meteor show this past week? If so, hoping you had better luck than
me. From our hill top, it wasn’t a
stellar show to say the least. Between
the bright moonlight and the light pollution, I only saw two meteors. Perhaps we’ll have better luck in
December. However, it’s spellbinding to
sit out on a warm summer evening and just lift your eyes and look at the
heavens and contemplate that we are all made of stardust.
My lack of meteor
sightings makes me think of a poem from my recent book “Stalks Of Talk”. Hope you enjoy it.
Night
Owl
Does the owl from his hollow tree
count the shooting stars?
One hundred thousand one, one
hundred thousand two
Last night I saw four.
Does he search the skies for swift
streaks of light?
Watching coronas and comets and
fireballs in flight
Last night I saw four.
Sliding into sleep, I hear the owl
telling me the count.
His sibilant sounds melting on the
edges of my pillow.
One hundred thousand one, one
hundred thousand two
Last night I saw four.
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