Archive
09/21/09 - (5)
My Own Cosmos
Still sitting here, at 11:15, on the dock's-end bench, This sixty-six-degree Monday evening, Listening to crickets chirping in the near distance,
Craning my neck heavenward, To gaze at the stars in the amorphous Milky Way, Their fluctuating, pulsating constellations
Weaving the sky's hundred billion galaxy-threads Into a spectacular astral tapestry of interstellar space, I realize just how fortunate my aging spirit is,
To experience this privilege of years, In which I'm yet able to see luminous bodies aligning Above this northern Wisconsin wilderness,
With one occasionally falling from the sky, Landing in my eyes, like a dandelion-parachute vision, Exhorting me to incorporate it into the crickets' songs.
09/21/09 - (5)
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