At the Intersection

Beside the frozen pond in Granny's backyard We're scanning the sky for the comet. Look Southwest, they said, But you are only six, And I have no sense of direction So we spin like tops beneath the heavens. We don't have a telescope either (Do we really need one?), But it's such a clear night That the sky is like a calm sea With stars marking a maze of channels All the way to the horizon. The planes confuse us though. Flickering like phoenixes And trailing plumes of smoke, They are decoys that deceive But also portend The possibility of revelation. At one point we're sure THAT'S IT! The incandescent ball, the luminous sky -- Even the ice reflects the miracle And utters on behalf of the earth A guttural gasp of surprise -- We stand transfixed by the moment, Or is it our imagination? you wonder. I admit I'm not sure, But it matters less if you really see it Than if you think you do. In a cosmic flash I realize our only certainty Is that you'll be 82 And I'll be long gone At the comet's next apparition. I ask: If you are alive then, Remember this night with your mother, January 10, 1986, So that memory creates Of its infinite orbit in space A finite arc in time Linking your earth with mine. Diana Loercher Pazicky