Stars dapple the blackened sky of night.
I sit, chilled, pondering, not the expanse of the universe
but, the magical quality of those stars.
The silence of the night deafens me,
but the light from those stars has a musical quality,
tickling my senses as they twinkle.
Their ethereal incandescence is a gift.
The night is alive.
Constellations form as the night hurries to meet the morning.
Patterns shift as the world rotates on its axis.
I take in the wonder that is above me,
but I look away before it’s too late.
I want to share my sky,
hoping that a shooting star is seen
by someone who needs the wish more than I.
(image credit: fineartamerica.com)