The Night

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No time for long viewed
gazes of the landscape;
no light for such sights.
Vision is only in the 
upward glance
where myriad sparkles
pattern their silver
'gainst the indigo sky.

My hands and legs
are dark to me,
black-holes where no form
is seen.
Yet,
through my thin-soled shoes
I feel the gravelly track
and hear stone on stone
grind their presence
that tell me
my place.
Steps are taken
circumspectly,
and small,
finding their way.
A softer carpet,
spongy
and silent, but oh, so soft,
alerts me to a 
different place -
playful gurgling of water
knowing no sleep
come day or night
- too close.
Feeling feet find
their way back
to sturdier ground.
Glance once more upwards;
the beauty of
the night.



[image from jodrellbank.manchester.ac.uk]
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