Walking Home on Spring Street September 2009
This is a place
where you can see the stars at night.
Looking up into the blinking blackness.
feet stumble on the grass edge
beside the road
wetness touches them with coldness
I might fall in the ditch
or crack an ankle
foolishly get caught again in the world
of level light, with walls and hardwood floor
gleaming, work surface shining,
screen vision glowing, stainless steel reflecting.
Much life is lived within created patina.
Light is something used to see the artifacts,
as if there were no stars, no verge,
no space extensive under star-white light,
the hard gravelled road, and its unseen edges.
Night here brings seeing, unused knowledge,
darkness and starlight breathing,
Hope brightens here
in a small corner of a vast universe.
written on Block Island, USA, just after flying back from Palmerston North, New Zealand, another place where you can see the stars at night, a different skyful of them