The Universe speaks to us in whispers
we can only see.
As each galaxy comes to stage-front
and bows to us with no regard.

We acknowledge their performance:
reality expressed in the flicker.


And they—so hugely gallant to us.
And we—so minific in measure to them.



We close each day with a velvet-dark blanket;
Suns, buried like cotton balls suspended.

04/13/2005