A Shaftsbury Night

Just south of the chicken coop,
Along the rusted wire lines
That have coagulated into maple trunks,
A black sky lets Venus outshine a million stars,
And the wind rubs my head
in the grotto beneath my hooded sweatshirt.

The kitchen lights yellow the snow
Down the hills toward the house,
And I can see my son Richard at
The computer through the window--
An image framed on a TV in a dark room.

I will, without fanfare,
Watch the night sky change direction
Over the pine tops beyond the knoll.

I will stand here and
Follow my hot breath
Wisp clouds to the stars.