How the night sky changes
when there is so much fixed in movement.
People fall by the wayside of a heart,
free-fall from a sphere of influence,
each a star, the centre of their universe, seeds
on a map - vanishing.
The other side of the moon is still there, of course,
as are we, here on the circumference of this sphere
where giants race to peer long lashes over the never-ending hill
like it were a rainbow, thinking gold would be to see you,
hold your small hands to say thank you,
when light is already there and here,
sensing what is missing and what is missed
by the brushes of blinking
when giants have stretched,
yawned and slept.
Heavens
whimsy
abc 2013
No comments:
Post a Comment