A half-moon waning

high in the eastern sky,

the silhouettes of black branches

stretching above the neighbors’ houses,

patterns of the brighter stars

glowing above the lights

of this small town.

There is no breeze stirring,

no murmuring of traffic on the bypass,

no dogs barking.

In this welcome quiet,

I stretch back above the slatted deck,

soft towel under the aching neck

that has woken me again

long before I am ready for rising.

I think of coming chores and choices,

a soft clamoring of voices

inside my head.

With the moon suspended

between two horizons,

I marvel at a tiny constellation—

six stars tightly clustered

in the path of an October moon

whose greater light

will soon make it impossible to see

but I am convinced

they will still be there

behind the glare

of an infinitely smaller

but much closer sphere.

It is easy for the nearness of a thing

to make it seem much larger

than it truly is.

H. Arnett

10/8/20