The Myth of 2050 A.D.
Heroes battled monsters in the past.
In the dewy grass feeling my skin goose-bumped; cold,
awe, both, I watched the sky fall on me. Lights
dropped like rain, fizzled at horizon and hovered.
A transition I always questioned, but believed.
You would have liked their glowing I chased to trap
in jars. Breath fogging the glass, I wondered how battles
were a mix of paper wings and cold fire.
An occasionally upside-down queen paid for vanity
with her daughter’s life. But the girl escaped grasping
the body of a flying horse. A hunter bracing,
his belt, so bright, I swear I saw him draw his blade,
fight the scorpion with the red eye. Bright red.
(Sometimes thought to be a whole other world.)
Their best work; it moved all at once,
a murmur surrounding one leader, together
they smeared into a bright, endless stream.
A swan flew down it every night, weeping.
I saw a tear drop once. A tear with a tail, so long
the drop so bright it hurt to look. I felt the heat
above me, dew-soaked and shivering,
watching my breath, holding it to see one more fall.
The sky mourned; they stopped falling.
I think they’ve left now, the heros.
If you would like to learn more about light pollution, the artificial brightening of the night sky, visit www.darksky.org.
If you would like to learn more about the loss of fireflies visit www.firefly.org.
The image above is from an Astronomy Photo of the Day you can find it here.These pieces are copyright to me. Please do not reproduce anything posted by me without my express permission. Email me at ameejhennig (at) gmail (dot) com to request permission. Thank you.