Clear Night for Ursa Minor

Golden honeysuckle sits
at the creekbed’s edge.
You stand, arms crossed, under
the blue-black cover of sky.

You wait, watch. You map
out the night, tracing a line
in the red clay with bare toes.

Zebra finches in the brush
chatter and flap wings,
leaving you and the moon.

Published in: on September 23, 2010 at 11:25 pm  Comments (4)  
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4 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. This is simply beautiful… I need to spend more time looking up at the night sky, reading poetry, and just… being. Thank you for this.

    • Thanks for the feedback!

  2. This is great. Beautiful and sad (at least for me) and I am not big on poetry. 🙂 Thank you for sharing.

    • Thanks, Aloysa – and glad to see that this poem can elicit a simultaneous reaction of ‘beautiful and sad’.

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