by Janet Kenny
An accidental night of stars
stretched everywhere across the sky.
Dark houses, cinemas and bars
extruded people asking “why?”
No haze now from electric light
obscured the childhood memories
of mystery that pricked the night
when human light was less than these.
The stars swept further than the sea,
their diapason strong to some
who felt a pulse that used to be
and shivered, humble, overcome.
Now only when machines break down
do we perceive the ancient shape
inside our minds. This coastal town
is shocked. Struck dumb. We stand and gape.