This nighttime sky we all share

across continents and time zones

tonight has broken clouds

and crickets competing with cicadas,

howling dogs and speeding cars

on a 25 Mph backroad.

Yearlong detour brings out

the worst in people, night or day,

hurrying to get somewhere

hurrying to get back from somewhere,

as trim mothers chat briskly over pink

strollers or tired fathers try to guide

small sons on bikes with training wheels.

Me, I'm taking it all in, my old camera

broken; my new one still unfamiliar.

This place where land and sky collide

is not flat, but ragged, jagged and complex,

rigged with wires and light ever-changing.

Turn around and bats are skimming,

birds are doing bird things,

and below, as darkness descends like infinity

some of us are looking up, hoping for

a dying star, a satellite, a sign that

we are part of something larger

than a broken camera could ever wish for,

in these fleeting seconds of uncertainty.

thanks to etouffee, for the empty nodeshell

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