The Perseids
Aug 13 2016


The meteor shower 
above the clouds
went on, as promised
I‘ve been reassured.

Because the tree that falls
need not be heard. 
Because somewhere, there is always clear black sky
whoever’s watching;
the stars, hard points of light
through thin motionless air.

Where flecks of ice, shards of rock
blaze for a brilliant instant;
after billions of years, in the frozen void 
a random encounter with earth.

Except that in a closed universe 
nothing ends.
The spared molecules
gassing-off,
the charred remains
seeding the planet.
And the shared atmosphere
of our only home
absorbing the heat
of immolation.

That egg-shell thin
mixture of air,
keeping us safe
from space debris, ultra-violet.
Just as cosmic rays
are deflected by magnetic flux,
in a luminous veil
of shimmering light
when winter nights are clear.

Nevertheless
I kept on watching
that claustrophobic cloud,
hugging the surface
like a pale quilt.
As if there was nowhere else but here;
this planet,
this point of land,
this very spot.

Earth, hurtling on
regardless. 



If I were a lot less prolific, this would be a lot easier! Because once again, I find myself cribbing previous work --  scouring old ground, searching for interesting subjects. Any reasonably attentive reader will easily see that I’ve touched on similar imagery and themes before. I can only hope that practice has sharpened my ear, honed my eye, and distilled my language, so it comes out better the 2nd (or 3rd!) time around. 

After two weeks of perfectly clear weather, it turned overcast the day before the annual Perseid meteor shower. This year we were promised a more spectacular view than usual. I can only presume it came to pass!