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
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,
Stretching toward spring with all my might
and with the prompts at Write ALM