Night Sky

Night Sky

I miss the vast night sky 
of my youth:
a canopy of endless black silk, 
pierced by the tiny beams 
of a million stars.

When I was a child,
in the flat lands of Ohio farm country,
stargazing was as easy as breathing.
Spread a blanket over the dewy grass,
lie down, and look up.

In this rust belt city, 
there are too many buildings and trees.
Garish, glaring city lights 
drown the glow from the stars,
crowd out their soft sparkle, 
render them invisible.
Stargazing does not exist in the city. 

In my youth, stargazing calmed my spirit,
centered my soul, and gave me hope.
The symphony of the night
was a soothing serenade,
a soft mix of silence and sweet serenity.

I wish I could look at the stars with you again.
If I had a second chance, 
I would linger there,
bask in the moment with you,
and resist the call 
to come in from the night.

Childhood

Childhood

Counting the train cars.
One, two, three, four.
Queen Anne's Lace tiaras
are woven into our hair.

Pick a number, pick a color.
Five, six, seven, eight.
Cootie catchers: paper folded in triangles
will tell your fortune...if you dare!

Jacks and marbles played in the dirt.
Onesies, twosies, threes, and fours.
An ant invades the playing field,
carrying a crumb, taking it---who knows where?

Hide-and-seek played after dark
quickly becomes Ghosts in the Graveyard.
"I've got the best hiding spot.
I'm not telling you where."

Moths flutter around the back porch light.
Edges of the yard are deep in shadow.
"I see you hiding behind that tree."
"Hey, you peeked! That's not fair!"

How lucky am I to have had that childhood?
Who knew such happiness could be found
in making felt clothes and Popsicle® stick furniture
for pig-nosed trolls with purple hair?