Monday, April 24, 2023

National Poetry Month Offering #12

 Aurora Borealis



Collisions

That's all it is

The pragmatist would say

Between gaseous particles

In the upper atmosphere

With charged particles

From the sun

So spare and logical

This description

Preferring to watch

This hypnotic nebulous light show

A more mercurial elucidation

Seems fitting

I gather my shawl

Closer about my shoulders

Against the cool lake breeze

Gazing northward

The goddess Aurora

Paints the night sky canvas

With icy swans

A heavenly dance

To a silent song

Of the spirits of loved ones

Long since gone


I don't remember how old I was the first time I saw the Northern Lights. All I know is that I fell in love with the swirling, magical light show. I do know that looking up at the night sky has always fascinated me, whether it's the moon I'm focused on or the stars, or waiting patiently for a meteor shower to begin, or escaping the city lights in pre-dawn hours  to view Haley's comet. I wrote this after observing the Aurora Borealis near a prairie lake around midnight a few years ago. Of course there was a man there. He was the least interesting aspect of the evening.


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