(asterism, n: 1. a small group of stars; 2. a star-shaped figure
exhibited in some crystals by reflected light)


by david ulansey






among the random stars

we seek

the hieroglyph of light.




sunset beyond summer,

whispered signs in the deeper wood,

paths to the clearing

in the center of the rain,

river of soft metal and of leaves--

do we stand

among the fragments of ourselves,

never finding the message

that we sent?




tonight the wind

bears to us

the fragrance of the stars.




we are reflections

of each other

in the broken mirror

of the heart.




though my love

is far away,

every night

the same stars

shine on us both.




tonight my love

is so far away

that above her

the stars shine,

while above me

clouds darken the sky.




how slowly the seasons

turn in the wind

watching themselves fall.....

when will they lie still again,

taking their rest

in the shadow of

the last tree?




tonight the fireflies

are more numerous

than the stars.

does this mean

we have lost our way?




we sow fallen leaves

in each others' eyes

to gather someday

from our frozen tears

a harvest of suns.




summer has gone,

yet there remains

a blue flower:

the autumn sky.




will we ever understand

what happened

the first time

we looked in each others' eyes?




today the sky

was so clear

that for a moment

it ceased to be blue.




and we who rest

in the steepled turning

of the dark-eyed night,

extinct birds will guide us

like broken stars

to the lost house

of the future.




among the branches

the wind rustles

the autumn stars.




as sometimes

the moon appears


in the sunlit sky,

so sometimes

in the daily round


i think of you.




trees planted in rows

by the river, cascade

of light and flowers,

we move through our silences

like faces that no one remembers:

do you recognize

the invisible smile?




tomorrow the sun

will look the same

as it does today:

but you will be gone.




leaves change colors

just before they fall.

does something in us change

just before

we fall in love?




there is no such thing

as a perfect plum blossom:

each has its flaws.

but how sweet

the fragrance!




tonight the sky

is so clear

that all things

become stars.






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