This was the night I thought I’d never see the stars.
The day dripped rain, but at dusk
the clouds parted like a stage curtain
and unraveled a celestial dynasty.
For three nights we came down to the pond
that floated the reflection of the stars,
Venus blazing at the top of the hill,
little beacon or crown jewel.
The stars in the water wobbled of their own accord;
they were not really there,
they were the bright images
of real and imagined constellations.
Each one that flew by recited a different story,
how far they must have traveled
before they fell; some bled
tails so long they cleaved the sky.
We left the lantern burning behind the screen door
and made plans to plant the hydrangea
you bought for me last spring,
or when to build the new garage—
all the petty things that construct a marriage.
There will be time enough
in the morning for mundane chores.
This is the reason we’re here—
watching the world crack down around us.