I watched it bloom,
a brilliant flower
in my backyard sky.
Night after night,
I stood below it,
wishing it closer.

At last I drove
the levee road alone,
away from city lights.
My bright companion close
enough to touch.
My fingers brushed
its furry tail.
It burned.

Then it was gone.

And though
I'll wait four
thousand years,
which really
means forever,

a part of me
still looks into
the western dark
with aching heart
and open arms.

Poetry