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.