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For Dave, who owns a star. A starry night, blackest black, Strode madly into Heavens' Dome, And quickly took up residence Evicting the Sun from its old home. How carefully the stars arranged Themselves in patterns descantonic! Above the Earth, in eerie ways, They beckoned with each high harmonic. First one fell, and then one more, A shower of fire � they streaked the sky! Quick spasms of starshine (a fall from grace?) This fata morgana before my eyes. Do you hear it? The night is howling now In deep regret, in Mourning Black, As fiery gems are lost to the earth� A vain attempt to gain them back. |