Starlight

Under the starlight, everything rests, all the returns are silent, yet the stars pulse gently above, mapping worlds of which I know nothing.

And yet there is a rhythm, a pulse beneath my skin; each twinkle peeks in, fills me like a glass, a cosmos seeks — I absorb it here, carry it into the dark, a warmth, a wisdom as deep as roots, as the stones lying quiet. Time is offered under the stars, as all things breathe out, all things breathe in.

What could I hold? Only the moments of light, deftly, a balance of living and waiting, living and waiting.

• A R Ammons