by Neal Whitman

Created on: September 03, 2009

"Counting My Lucky Stars"

Once:

We set up camp

and rolled out sleeping bags.

I brushed her hair in dusklight.

A loose boulder stopped short

rolling down the hillside.

The creek heard no splash.

We were there for the stars.

Counted on them.

Up at midnight, holding hands

we looked up. There

near the celestial north pole,

Andromeda, V-shaped.

Rescued at the edge of the sea. There

next to her Perseus the Hero

holds Gorgon head, Medusa.

We were for the stars.

Counted on them.

Back in our sleeping bags,

thoughts of Pegasus, were there

for me, her Poet.

Below a wolf moon

I woke cold

my left thumb rested on chin.

Colors soon dispersed.

We were for the stars.

Counted on them.

Now:

In the early hour of light

my dream leaves me wild.

The Hermitage bell

wakes me and I walk alone

through the aspen grove.

I revere a rose

reboant in the shadow.

Miss you in the stars.

Alone on a moonless night

I am for the dark.

Wished upon a star

with you on a night like this.

We were for the dark.

I was told that any who sees

the first star visible as nightfall comes

can make a wish come true.

Counting on a lucky star.

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