Sometimes when
the paddock gate has closed on day
and dusk’s fence
has culled the colours from the sun
I watch the mother of all musters
graze the night.
My childhood questions long ago
re the stars
and their what and why and when
are answered now
with quasars, crabs, quarks and holes.
But these don’t hold a candle
to the stories told me then
of angels tending flocks
of fireflies
across the fields of heaven.
When the priest who married my wife and me heard I wrote poetry, he asked me for a poem to put in his parish newsletter. I sent him this.
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Just lovely. There's an old Australian poem that characterises the stars as flocks of sheep which I could dig up if you're interested.
ReplyDeleteThanks PS. Yes, I'd love to see it.
ReplyDeleteSweet - particularly love the firefly mention.
ReplyDeleteAh, fireflies in a black grotto - a parallel universe. Thanks Alicia.
DeleteSo quietly meditative - I keep coming back to the image of 'dusk's fence'. Really love the scope of this - handling something so immense in such a delicate way. Thanks for sharing, Keith :)
ReplyDeleteAttempting to explain the inexplicable without resorting to science almost demands poetry, don't you think? Thanks Elizabeth.
DeleteI like how this crescendos so quietly to the end. Lovely and reflective. I like quiet poems like this - they tend to stay with me.
ReplyDeleteAnd I love the "quiet...crescendos" - that will stay with me. Thanks Michelle.
DeleteYes, the science is fascinating too, but sometimes we do lose some of the "wonder" of being able to look up and simply speculate: when the "what if" becomes simply the "what."
ReplyDeleteExactly!
DeleteLovely poem, Keith. One from the heart.
ReplyDelete