After tramping through the woods 
claiming that our night vision was 
getting better 
every time we barked our shins 
on another soggy tree, 
we broke through 
into the field, 
which was a corduroy of dry cornstalks.  
It was too dark 
to see the clouds our breaths made.  
The distant concept of STAR-GAZING 
which we'd dreamed up in easy chairs below 
seemed now nothing but a word 
in front of the needle-prick stars.  
The Pleides' elusive seventh member wavered 
in the corners of our eyes.
In moving
my eyes I thought I'd seen 
a spot
but it skipped and left a trail behind it
and we as individuals all saw
our shooting star.

Feb 7, 1995

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