Friday, April 05, 2019

Something Different




Many of you know that my poetry is mostly about nature but now and then I take a fit and write about something else. This particular night my cat woke me at midnight. I’m not at my best in the middle of the night but when I opened the door to let the cat out, the stars were right there, right there! and the big dipper was so close I could have touched it. This is what happened:


Who Knows Where This Stuff Comes From

In an alternate universe
that only looked like this familiar one
the Big Dipper leaned down over my doorstep
so I climbed in.

Did you know that stars
are really bits of music,
notes that quiver on their way
through the black, limitless space?

They sing
of glistening rivers on fog-mist mornings,
of tumbled brown soil and all that’s green and living,
of whales and cormorants,
komodo dragons and people,
and other ordinary things.

They sing of longing
and belonging.
They are the tears of sorrow and laughter
that gather in the corners
of our eyes and slip down,
down to the earth,
where in an alternate universe
they become the Big Dipper
leaning over my doorstep.

7 comments:

Tabor said...

So truly lovely that I can hear the quiet of the night before the tinkle of the stars.

Pauline said...

Thanks Tabor - it was like - magic!

Out on the prairie said...

very nice as always, I so enjoy reading your thoughts.

Wisewebwoman said...

So beautiful. I've had moments like these. Your words capture the incredible feeling. Thank you.

XO
WWW

Pauline said...

OOTP - we're a mutual admiration society ;)

WWW - I used to resent waking up in the middle of the night, unable to get back to sleep. Since retirement, I find I I can treasure middle-of-the-night experiences like these because an afternoon nap solves my sleep deprivation problem ;)

Friko said...

This speaks to me but then your poems always do.
I know what this feels like, when I can’t sleep at night because of restlessness or Millie waking me to be let out I too automatically look up at the starscapes above me and wonder, just wonder Aren’t we lucky not to suffer light pollution? As in large conurbations?

Thank you for your rumination (you didn’t write this poem in the dead of night, did you?).

Pauline said...

Friko - Actually, I did , penning it the moment I stepped back inside as it had been written in my head as I stood on my doorstep.