A High Uinta Summer's Night



I have woven stars within my soul
With wonder and with learning.
The weft is strong, the warp is bright,
The pattern sure, the colors burning.

From age of nine the sky has beckoned

To learn of stars & spatial things.                         
Spectras, novas, Kepler’s laws,
Tektites, umbra, cosmic strings.

Mercury, Mars, Arcturus, Vega,

Celestial equator, perigee,  
All lifted from pages to memory.
Redshift, Cepheid, singularity.

Sneaking my telescope down the stairs,

At 3 am to view and find
Orion’s nebula, Andromeda
Each perfectly, artistically designed.

Mother, chasing me back to bed

Or so she fondly thought.
Instead I’d open up my window
To get the view I’d sought.

Through city’s hazy light-pollution

I’d search till I could see
The stars of 1^st & 2^nd magnitude
Most known and loved by me.

But tonight the rustling branches move,

Wild are the moonless skies
As I slip out the door of our mountain cabin
With my coat and dark-adjusted eyes.

Awake midst sleepers, well past midnight

Strange sounds everywhere;
But the sky is clear, my second home
I’ll catch my bearings there.

Looking up then sitting down

Near dizzy with the view.
With all my knowledge, all my searching,
I could not find one star I knew

The sky on fire with blazing lights.

The Milky Way huge and bold,
Nebulas, colors, thousands of stars
In tapestry overshot with gold.

Turning away and looking down

Upon my open hands
I watch them glow with luminous light
Reflecting heaven’s jeweled bands.

And in that moment of pure synthesis

I could plainly feel and see
The reason, path and destiny
Which in futurity will come to be.

Behind that light is substance,

And the atoms beyond sight
Were birthed and cradled in far-off suns   
Till from supernovas bursting bright

Were scattered throughout time and space.

Then under gravity’s determined pull
They became the building blocks of life.
The plan is truly rich and full.

From pure star matter we are made,

And we in turn will stars create.
The pattern clear, the shuttle moves

To weave the destiny that waits.

Social Correctness

Empty minutes and feeling blue

I didn’t bring enough to do.

Cannot leave or take a break.
Somehow I’ve got to stay awake.

Constrained by “rules” not of my choice

Confined to chair with silenced voice
Waiting for those who should appear
(Maybe in January of next year?)

Beyond these walls is air and space

Nature’s beauty to which I’d race
Yet this desire restrained by will
My own commitment keeps me still.



This was quickly composed a couple of weeks ago while at an all-day training meeting where I had volunteered to give a presentation. Next time I will come better prepared for those 20 - 60 minute dead spots.

Flotsam

Rain’s running rivulets
Tumble down arms and fingers
Dripping into puddled splendor

Does it take a piece of me as it flows

Laughing softly as it goes?

Mirrored Souls

Thoughts beyond sensing yet are known

By hearts that hear and eyes that see

Feelings banked by iron grating
Respond to breath and flicker free

Words never spoken yet are heard
In silence which is symphony.