LIGHT YEARS
- Peter Robinson (U.K.)
Heat-lightning flares on a dusk horizon.
Stiff breeze rustles the darker leaves.
Some stars have put in an appearance
on the blue-black dome above us.
They’re being read, interpreted
by a voice out on the patio
pointing to Plough or Great Bear.
Only I can’t see any pattern up there,
no more at the centre of things
than our continent and hemisphere.
Just like tonight’s blue super-moon,
it’s not an optical illusion
come nearer on its ecliptic round.
We see it larger for that reason,
our world no more at the centre of things
than men are now, or human beings.
Still, unable to find any pattern up there
on the blue-black dome above us,
I start at the flashes on a dusk horizon
however many light years far from here.