Present

I’ve always loved the night

With its far flung dome

Of black and white

Twinkling and crinkling

Like so many pearls

Washed up and shining on a beach somewhere.

 

I used to sneak out of my room

Careful of every creak and groan

Loud silence echoing

With every cautious step

The Boogeyman grinning

Right over my shoulder; invisible.

 

The winds would whistle

The trees would creak

A silent orchestra wound up

Unseen fingers of sticks and reed

And still the night sky

Beckoned, imperious and enchanting.

 

I could feel the cold

Seep into my bones

A new sort of music

From chattering teeth

But those stars seemed to laugh at me

The universe was much colder.

 

For a long while

I stood there

Watching, waiting

Breathing; silent

Believing in miracles, hopeful

For what, I never knew.

 

At length I unbent

Huffed and puffed heavily

Warming frozen limbs to action

Seeking my warm bed

For cold comfort

The stars had not been kind.

 

I never knew what called me

Every winter night

To see them dancing

Across a brilliant sky

A shimmering gown of precious gems

A distant admiration.

 

Some hope still remains

Though I left those dreams in the cold

Long ago, in another life

But one day the stars returned

Cold, aloof, uncaring as always

And yet, unchanged, unending, constant.

 

As they had always been

Cold comfort was comfort still

A quiet assurance, a glimmering hope

Such as they could freely give

Bound with lasting enchantment

Equally drawn to me. Present.

 

© Ruth P. – 2016

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