Planets will shine with a steady light, too much in the sun
to see anything any less bright. Stars
Twinkle and wink at us, because they know the universe
is not empty.
As dawn comes on, Venus
is shorn of all her symbolism, as sure as this
Is Christmas morn. And it is cold. But I at least am warm
for this time of year, and dressed to be born. Is there anything left
to cross such vast gaps?
In a world made new each year, where
that star you see twinkle so merrily, so easily
May have died, ages ago and you too
will die, having hung your most desperate wish upon it.
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years. Try the RANDOM button to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.
*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.