Sea of Clouds
 
 
 
A bank of mist rolls down the mountain
like a breath of God in the morning.
White and smoky cloud conjugate.
The ghost of the waxing moon yields.
On the left hand corner of the horizon
a prism of colour shivers through wet sunlight.
My wish is not for gold – just a
thank you, thank you, thank you -
rolling out as surely as the ocean tide.
 

This Week in Corrogue …

 
One of the benefits of this unseasonably cold weather this March has been the amazingly clear night sky. Without light pollution out here in Corrogue each night when I take the dogs out last thing we pause and have a good look at the moon and I try to pick out the constellations and some planets. Venus is easily the brightest, but Saturn twinkles fairly brightly too at the moment.
 
Earlier this year I was with a few Cub Scouts who went out sky watching with me. Saoirse, (pronounced Sir-sha, meaning freedom in Irish) a very perceptive ten-year old, commented on how ancient those stars were and if we were there (up in the stars) we wouldn’t even be born yet. By the time we see the light twinkling it is in the star’s past.  The star may even have died out by the time we see it in our now.  And, she further reasoned, up there in the stars because of the time difference people who have died are still alive. . Her father died when she was six years old.  But when she looks up into the night sky and looks at the stars he is still alive and well.
 
Some academic has said that our human intellect is at its sharpest when we are ten years old. I was in awe of this fine young woman in the making.
 
© 2006 Bee Smith