Quiet stirrings, gentle breeze
They lift me up this evening.
I sit outside and memorize the constellations in the sky.
The night opens up with a grand display of stars peeking out through the silky clouds.
And I wonder, do you look up and gaze at these same fine stars on this same peaceful night?
Do you postulate on the same bright orb, wondering of its name?
With all the apps we have today I could easily define the stars, but where’s the fun in that. I’d much rather make up my own names to these many speckled dots in the sky, for then they would belong to me. I’d give you names like glimmer, rose, eucalyptus, and shade, glint, rouge, castor and glaze. My own adorned ceiling to gaze up at in wonderment.
My confetti, freckled sky, do you care what I call you?
I suspect not.
Sarah E. Sturgis