Come see the shooting stars!
The stairs were taken two,
no three at a time.

Tiny scraps of light
held up the darkness
as we stood on the
green worn bench.
My eyes danced
far east then, west.
That call again
pointing south,
“Did you see that one?”
Sweeping went my eyes
then straight up
the light dripped
down on me.

Now, I call through
the graying windows
of time, turned tyranny
Come see the shooting
stars!

Only one responds and
we head away from city
lights, until a field
opens. We lie down under
Orion for an hour
seeing deep up.
The silence
sweeps us and
fire light
makes
us
wet.