Created: 4th June, 2019

Dark Sky Park

Now we're up on the edge

and over, on the mountain

with mountains beyond. Behind us,

            in the dark

of the valley, villages are embers

and the little city hugs its little glow,

ten miles away. Above,

           spark after spark

from a burned-out bonfire,

the stars spin away into space.

We huddle closer in our blankets, from the cold

            and the dark,

             in the dark

              of the dark sky park.


Tonight, look north, another edge

beyond this and... can you believe

your eyes - that blue-green fraying

              of the dark

of space, like fine weed wavering

in a stream? Where the solar wind itches 

the thin skin of our atmosphere, the faintest


of light - just breathe the word: Aurora

Northern Lights - one that only appears,

and rarely, then, when held up

              to the dark

               to the dark

               of the dark sky park.


And us, where are we? On the edge

of the Earth. Are we riding this rock

bareback in the rodeo of stars? Or adrift

             in the dark

in a small boat on the open seas

of space, thrown together, refugees

with nowhere to go back to or

            to disembark?

Or picture this: a little boy out late

beyond the streetlights, dap-dapping this ball,

this one and only precious globe, alone        

            in the park,

            in the dark,

            the dark sky park.


Philip Gross - Dark Sky Park



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