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)
polysyllabic profundities 
I share your love of the stars in the sky with their magical qualities – I miss my Texas skies. Living in the city with so many man-made lights hides the constellations my uncle taught me to love decades ago. Time passes, but the stars in the skies continue to guide us.
I remember being in Toronto during the Eastern Seaboard black out in 2003. There were so many people who lived in the city just staring at the starry sky because they had never seen so many stars!
What a beautiful poem. But please be aware that shooting stars can accept multiple wishes.
That is some good information! 😉