Westford, Mass.

So near our house, on the town line,
a shadow of a dome in the shadow of a quarry.
All around, the stars are cold and plentiful,
the earth undivided except for this fence of crooked teeth.
We pass the sign, but we never enter.
we walk and we walk.
We know and we know the dark river
of our own universe, about to dissolve.
I know who works there, and
I bless them every day; through them we
have something more than our covered space,
poorly lit kitchen or antique table
or inevitable words.
Out for air, I pass by and give thanks thread from the
Milky Way to this town
and to our narrow dark room.

Copyright © 2009, Meg Smith

Milky Way

image Credit:; jpstanley, some rights reserved

Meg Smith is a writer and journalist  living in Lowell, Mass. In addition to Astropoetica, her poems have appeared previously in The Cafe Review, The Lowell Offering, The Bridge Review, Erosha and many others. She also performs as an Oriental dancer, Morgana, and is an avid researcher of Middle Eastern history and culture. She welcomes visits to her Web site, www.poet-in-motion.net.