Lines Across the Sky
by Bob Moore

My eyes were drawn to the sky last night.
It felt both common and far.
The clouds sailed low in their layers of white.
There wasn’t the trace of a star.

But Jupiter stood in a constant pose
like a steadfast firefly.
And Venus lay low and twice the size
of any that rule the sky.

And higher still in the winter chill,
the moon shone only a part
of a section the darker side of itself
displayed in its two-toned art.

And lines across the sky ran swift
as inferences sketched in the mind
And changes on earth seemed small, remote,
removed from a constant kind

of power this hour is visible to,
this hour that time takes on–
and when distress feeds the heart, there’s this
unspeakable silence till dawn.


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