Stars

I opened the front door

in light cotton pants and t-shirt,

and the immediate soft wind

reached and coldened my skin without warning.

So I walked back inside and exchanged

my khakis for sweatpants,

my whiteshirt for two long-sleeved, hooded layers,

and tried again.

Out on the dark porch,

I thought to see little.

But I saw just enough,

and a few white blurry patches in the distance

told me to bring my glasses from inside.

Outside again, I look far,

and am met with lovely show

a myriad sparkles in the night

greet me with twinkling smiles.

Some bright, some faint, and all so small,

and yet so vast, my mind recalls.

That big black nothing in the sky

grants me yon marvel to the eye.

Each only a tiny speck of light

one twinkling morsel of delight

but placed together, in their spots

one begins to connect the dots.

A swinging curve, an arrow straight,

that pointy square looks like a plate.

A mouse, complete with head, eye, tail.

And there, a celestial glowing trail.

The scorpion's tail's right there, I see.

And the so-called bear? Behind me!

Some shapes I know, mostly the bright.

The rest's a whole new sky of night.

But what's that hazy thing between

those million stars I've never seen?

The cloudless field on which I lay

showed no such pattern during the day.

Oh look, it swings around the globe

so it's steadier than I thought before.

It's like a belt, I might just say...

from east to west... it's the Milky Way!

This mighty arch of darkish hue

presents to me a novel view

I'd heard about and seen in vids,

but tonight it's at my eyes, unhid.

Down on my back, I still looked up

making shapes line and patterns pop.

Two spirals meet to form a scythe,

down there, a crooked sword and hide.

A few swift fallers fall way fast

quicker than I can turn, they last

not half a second, and 'fore I think

another burns in my sight's brink.

I knew that dawn would come sometime,

I thought of when, and turned my spine

to light on the hills to the side;

a white aura hinted a lamp behind.

Some time later, don't know how much,

I realized I gravely misjudged.

Twas not a lamp, just a big rock.

The Moon, wearing a silver frock!

She dazzles, with her light up high,

though of late she's been turning shy.

A week from now, I'd like to guess,

she'll wear a black gown, no white dress.

Tonight she pointed down and left

with her silver silhouette,

and as a sphere lit by the sun,

she points to where our star comes from.

I heard once too that the sun's path

is marked by our galaxy's track.

Tracing the lines from haze and moon,

I knew dawn wouldn't be coming soon.

Two coldening feet and a sated sight

made me retreat from the starred night

into my weatherless abode,

where my night venture I gladly told.