During lockdown, the weather was beautiful. Long midsummer days of blue skies stretching out, full of walking and reading and lazy conversations. The nights were just as wonderful – clear skies sprinkled with stars, sagging under the weight of so many stars.
We decided to stay up late one night to watch a meteor shower. The aquariids, I think. We took the beach blanket out and lay on the lawn, snuggled in sleeping bags and Dryrobes. There was some wriggling, and some giggling, and a bit of complaining, before we all fell silent, and just watched the sky.
We didn’t see many meteors, it has to be said. But we did spend time outside, gazing up at the sky. The more we looked, the more stars we saw – star after star after star – the Milky Way a band of light arching over our house, reaching towards the horizon. We were very quiet.
so many stars
how could we count them?
we could only gaze.
A haibun for Kim at dVerse. Kim wants us to think about the last time we gazed at nature in awe.
Forgetting foolish rows and crazy fights
And all our fractured days and shattered nights,
We hold our breath and watch this secret sight –
Fireflies copying stars in dancing flight,
And stars that mimic fireflies, sparkling bright –
Hoping we can re-light each other’s light.
Just last week I pointed out that Wednesdays wouldn’t be Wednesdays without a prompt from Jane Dougherty – and now she’s decided to take a little break from doing the prompts. It’s a shame, but she has been so helpful and supportive to her group of poets over the last few weeks, and I can’t begrudge her a break and some time to work on her own writing.
This is a slightly whackier image than the ones we usually use. It gets a bit wilder every time I look at it, and I don’t think I’ve really done justice to the craziness, but there you go. Jane has asked for a poem of 5 lines, each with 10 syllables – do you see what she did there?
When we got home, the sky was so full of stars, it was as if someone had stuck them on black paper just above the house. Or perhaps the house was the paper cut-out, a black outline against the jewel splattered sky? The Milky Way arched right over us – so close we could reach up and weigh each star in our hands, like ripened plums, and pick them if we wanted to. It was cold, and we leaned together, but still we stood there, heads back, mouths open, silent, watching the stars again. How many times have we stood there, gazing upwards? I can’t count the times, any more than I can count the stars.
White blossom ripens
Into silver fruit, tempting,
This is a haibun for Toni over at d’Verse. She’s asked us to write about the stars. Out here, where I live, there’s no light pollution (unless our neighbour leaves his kitchen light on). We frequently just stop and stare into space. And sometimes we look at the stars, too…
The moon reaches down and she kisses the face of the water,
And stars shimmer clear in the indigo depths of the lake.
My heart is an owl that’s as silent as midnight in winter,
I am waiting to wrap you in moonlight and starlight and dark
My heart’s a wild hare that runs swift down the lane in the moonlight,
And I long for the touch of your eyes and the kiss of your skin.
And the sky is a tent that is hung round with velvet and diamonds,
And the meadow is softer than pillows and sweeter than sin.
The fox walks the night in a whisper of hunter and hunted,
The moths fly like ghosts of their sisters who dance in the sun
The night holds the sound of your steps as you walk down the garden,
I am waiting, my heart is a flame that is burning within.
This was written for Jane Dougherty’s poetry challenge. She’s looking for metre. These seem like terribly long lines to me, but when I read them out loud I can definitely hear the rhythm there, which is what I was after.