outdoors, early
I watch for signs in the heavens
on what might or might not
be the last night of the Perseids
trying to be noisy enough
to scare off yard-wandering
opossums, skunks, bears, bats, bugs
trying to be quiet enough
to not wake the neighbors
One more in a long string of balancing acts
the sky opaque and speckled
to my kitchen light dazzled eyes
Then
like in all the best stories, where what you seek
arrives just before you give up
One star, bright tail of light shoots overhead
a Sign, I decide, that we’ll all be Okay.
Okay.
a word whose definition is as fuzzy
as the fixed stars fading from this lightening sky
Puff Of Smoke Poems 