The Stars Behind Betelgeuse
Published in
1 min readMay 13, 2020
We recognize the things that are not there
A man walking with a stick
A crow sits on a peaked roof
Suffused with tiny bright color
A pure scattering, disseminated
All around our demand for order
We cannot keep still
They are not calm
I have no names for all these
But they condense into a boy’s face
Barely smiling through a storm of disparate light.
© Donald Warren Hayward 2020
