NIGHT SKY AT MIRROR LAKE

In this alone time while the coffee's brewing
the fine edge of color where night meets day,
sky meets earth, and cloud meets air begins.
The warblers song is missed by the clusters
of traffic that roar soundly along Highway 61.
Five semis, a V W bus, two Winnebagos and the Suburban
follow one another like words in a sentence.
Life starts it's tumble as mind expertly shifts gears,
slips into drive, navigates the split between
things to be done and things already done, forgets
about the man at Mirror Lake who found
a fallen star, which he said spun into this world with so much light
there are still burn scars on the rocks where it landed,
forgets the dream where all the young had constellations
of glowing stars along the right side of their heads,
a mark of innocence, their birth right, forgets
the Northern Lights greening the sky last night.


Linnea Hadaway 1999