Morning Star.

MORNING STAR
i.m. Michael Corry

   Woken neither by sound nor light
   he leaves the house
   and stands outside
   to look at the Morning Star--
   drawn by an impulse
   he doesn't understand
   but responds to, step by step.

   Small moths flutter around him.
   Bell-shaped flowers
   shine with the same dampness
   that touches his skin
   and awakens his senses further.
   From across the yard
   crickets begin to sing in chorus.

   Above black clumps
   of trees and slanting roofs
   that white point of reference
   shines like a tiny jewel
   he always tried to reach out
   and touch when he was a child.
   As ever, it's just as far away.

   He remembers the death
   of a friend a year ago
   and the circumstances surrounding it--
   how it put his life back in touch
   with a girl he'd known
   forty years ago and who now lives
   on the other side of the world.

   Looking up at the sky
   is like saying a silent prayer--an
   offering of reverence
   for the soul of his friend.
   He thinks the Morning Star
   must have shone exactly like this
   forty years ago.

   He goes back into the house
   but doesn't check the time.
   The sun's started to rise.
   He lies in the half-darkness
   and remembers how strident
   the chorus of crickets became
   while he stood and kept his vigil.