Your sigh emits specks of starlight.

My fingers pin them in place

and together we behold

those benevolent explosions

from far away and long ago.


Last year we both lamented

bright searing pollution

that corrupted our window

into a dirty mirror and

made the sky turn sickly.


Tonight we realize at once

how far time has displaced us

and the rather little distance

one needs to see things newly

or to see things new.


Presently we both stand still,

made immobile by our feelings,

held by the whim of the sky.

We stand and think of home and

the pleasantness of our own company.


I wonder if the sky did whisper to you

the same silent supplication

it poured into my chest.

We linger a moment longer and I think:

surely it did.


--Jediael S. Fraser