Behold

Who told how countless stars congregate?
When light competes with light,
There are so few.
One, two, three.
One night in California,
I saw eighty drop onto the hills.
Four, five, six.
But visibility takes the seen.
Darkness gives the unseen.
In this vast and intimate ceiling,
Once I saw one.
Seven, eight, nine.
Gratitude always was and always will be.
Consider it
An enumerating thing.
Ten, eleven, twelve.
May there ever be stars uncounted,
One, two, three,
These gifts we never view.

                           — Laura Wood                       

Please follow and like us: