One day earlier this week I rose quite early. In the pre-dawn hours, even the dog didn’t stir. I made my way downstairs, grabbed a coat, and walked into the backyard, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Leonid meteor shower. Even though the skies were clear, I knew the chances of catching sight of a meteor this time around were not great. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
As I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, I noticed how different my backyard felt. I was alone, yet not alone. The mysteries of nature surrounded me. I listened for new sounds, noticed the shapes of shadows, and marveled at the patterns of stars, wishing I could name more than just the very familiar.
I didn’t see a shooting star that morning, but somehow I felt fulfilled from the experience. Instead of going back to bed, I picked up Devotions by Mary Oliver and read these words from “The Book of Time”:
“…I am standing by the open door.
And now I am stepping down onto the grass.
I am touching a few leaves.
I am noticing the way the yellow butterflies
move together, in a twinkling cloud, over the field.
And I am thinking: maybe just looking and listening
is the real work.
Maybe the world, without us,
is the real poem.”
My poem is in response to Mary Oliver, whose words never cease to inspire.
In Search of a Shooting Star
by Rose Cappelli
crisp, cool air
kisses my cheek.
a sprinkling of twinkling stars
fills the sky.
Listening in solitude,
the tentative tapping of squirrels
breaks the silence.
And that is enough.
On this magical morning,
the world is a poem.
No shooting star needed.
Carol has the Poetry Round Up this week at Beyond Literacy Link. Be sure to stop by for a dazzling array of poetry, photos, and art in her Bedecked in Autumn Gallery Walk. You won’t be disappointed!