Glad of Stars

Crisp the air
That meets this eve.
Trees stand bare
Reflecting the glint.
I look above glad of stars.
Sky free the drape of sombre mist.
Like seeing good friends I pause and stare.
The light they cast seems to flare.
Dancing figures across the canopy
Inspiring me to join them there.

Although it is rainy again here – this was written on a night when the clouds parted and I saw stars for what felt like the first time in weeks.

I am short sighted and one of the more pleasant things about it is stars are not points of light to me – they appear as figures that flicker as if dancing in the night sky. (Yes I know – when lockdown ends I will get my eye sight tested.)


Debris of stars

Consciousness comes from the debris of stars.

Furnaces of violent chemistry.

Seeding spirals coalescing with matter.

Bound to far event horizons.

Trying out Twitter poetry as inspired by a recent post and chat with a fellow blogger. It is quite compelling to strip back to fundamentals in this way. If you can handle the Twitter ‘stream of consciousness’ perhaps follow me there @lauraelizahay