The Old Astronomer...A Poem
Into the warm evening air we came,
A group of Arizona teenagers
-- hushed, nervous laughter --
Leaves and grass
Crushing beneath our feet.
The old man,
With tremulous finger,
Drew our gaze to the sky
Delicately aglow
From the sun's past hour descent.
And he named them.
What were they?
Betelgeuse,
Orion,
Cassiopeia perhaps?
And inside the quiet dome,
Squat and solid
Against the sky,
We put our eye to the lens.
And as our eye
Drew nearer and nearer,
A luminous orb
Danced from side to side,
Squirting
Like a lighted drop of fluid
Until it came to rest
In meeting with our eye.
And then it hung there
-- silently --
Full of pale living light
In the endless distance of space.
Was it Venus perhaps?
Alone and lovely
That we gazed upon?
What did we know,
What did we care
What this distant
Opalescent sphere
Meant to that old man,
that very old man,
Who had spent a lifetime
On nights such as this.
Copyright by Don Gray
Don Gray Art • Poems