The maple leaf junction is a secret place I found with a few friends once... It's beautiful
Hazy grey spots exist between white flecks,
and appear only when I look directly sideways.
And when I perceive them they multiply
into the already infinite sky.
The white flakes become glints of perfect light.
There lies a million tiny suns livid
against the black canvas, the imbued night sky,
distant and scintillating...this moment
(potentially their last) could be their brightest.
My eyes glaze over, uncertain discernment,
as I seek the fiery tail, fleeting
In existence, brilliant in its demise.
I dared to spot satellites from the night,
All the pebbles of the ocean-sky roll
Along their plain, does sight pretend deception?
Some novas hold hands in this black,
momentous ocean-sky, making
abstractions to please the wandering eye,
(for I saw not only Orion's belt,
but the Drie Susters and les Trois Rois.)
Man makes his mark between the dappled points,
A tint of red, from his airborne anoint.
My eyes begin to droop, the ardent stars
begin to fade, shadowed fields around me
become clear in the dawn. The gentle song
Of swallows assure that slumber is nigh.
I postpone sleep, wait for the soft pink sky,
who eludes me. My frosted eyelashes
Vacillate, I hear the cheerful morning
As it approaches, heat thawing my eyelids,
I fall aestivate ’neath the crisp blue sky.