Now we look to the stars—

though the beings rooted
to this blue marble must
have always looked skyward
once darkness pulled its
cobalt curtain over
their portion of planet.

I want to emerge from
isolation, coming out of
hibernation to be with those
who make their way on
breezy summer nights to
elevated places away from
manmade illumination,
distancing ourselves in dimness,
pointing our chins toward
night diamonds winking,
we imagine, at us,

searching for the sweet
sight of that fuzzy comet,
head down, swinging its
glossy tail of icy starstuff,
racing past us at 40 miles
a second. We try to
visualize its 3-mile girth,
contemplate the 70
million miles between
its brilliance and us.

And when we spot it
galloping below the big bear
in the northern sky, we grin,
gasp, point our visual devices
toward the blazing miracle
delivered in this precarious
human moment,

when a glimpse of distant
luminosity sprinting by
feels, somehow, like
a radiant spot of hope.