April 14-16, 2019


itll be another telescopeless night tonight

theyll sit parked inside and warm like us

its been like that all winter

Orion, his dogs and The Pleiades

dancing just beyond our grasp

some nights too cold, most nights too cloudy

or with a dark glowing from some odd haze

burying Andromeda, the horse and the bears

in the scatteredness of the city lights

and now the hunter is gone below

shall not rise until another cold season

has come upon us

after the teapot and its tea

are themselves gone below the verge

where Earth ends and forever begins

perhaps that nights light will be more gracious

and well see up close what now we dream afar

bask that glorious glow of those distant flames


A poem by Peter Rhebergen

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