the stars make no noise

The Stars Make No Noise

 

The stars make no noise.

As far as we know, they’re long in bed

beneath their solid grey flannel blanket

tucked into their accustomed places.

We have only the night music

of a million million cold raindrops,

the last verse of winter.

 

There’s no use, tonight, looking up

for wishing.

Tomorrow I’ll bow my head,

spread and curl my fingers

into the wet earth,

plant my hopes here.

When I quiet my breath

I can hear every bud and stem

curled dark in root and bulb whisper,

“Soon.”

 

Stretching toward spring with all my might

and with the prompts at Write ALM

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