Seeing Stars

(for Aaron and Audrey)

 

Is it a negation

of shadow,

pin stars

showering a moonless trail,

messages

to the milky way,

searchlights

in dark matter?

My family and I walk

the Cottonwood Trail July Fourth evening

to escape the crowds.

There

and there,

fireflies alight,

then extinguish

the                                                             micro-candles

of their own bodies.

My eyesight

is fuzzy.

A vitreous detachment

provokes                                             brilliant flashes of light

at the upper periphery of my eyes,

interrupts vision

with                                                      rapid dot-dashes

of nerve.

Together we watch

the firefly laser show.

Miniature volcanoes blink

“I’m here”

and        “Fooled you”

defying                             space

teasing

opening                                                      doors,

shutting them,

repeatedly showing off

tiny hearths,

elfin campfires,

making                                                      fairy dust

in boggy fields.

Fireworks

from Folsom stadium

and beyond

illuminate our senses,

scribble the sky

with color scrawls

reflecting questions

to dim the stars,

intensifying emotions.

I faintly see

fireflowers

watered by

the Big Dipper,           comets,                 and shooting stars.

In my head I imagine

sparklers,

Ferris wheels strung with white lights.

Bits of                                                                  electric,

visual Morse code,

blinding composition

of neurons behind membranes

paint my eyes

arrows of streaking                                    luminescence

that turn                                                                 gold

and will soon

strobe off.

My son holds         a                                               flashlight

on the edge

of dimming out.

Streetlights above us

suddenly go dark

as ghosts might

hover behind trees in the wind,

tricking me once more

to see                                                                       bits of electricity

behind my eyelashes.

My family’s chatter becomes

music                                bells

chiming us home

amidst                              fading images

as the show ends.

A storm approaches.

Thunder claps.

Lightening

pierces the sky,

letting the rain spill out

as July four

passes into                                                 any day.

~ by dianeklammer on February 18, 2013.

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