by Carolyn Martin
While we bicker in our backyard about an unswept floor, the spilled hair dye, and more triflings we won’t recall beyond tonight, a billion billion stars in stirring dust are wishing upon us. They plead for riotous applause for how they’ve traveled far and wide to rhapsodize a sky swirling awe. That’s it. That’s all. But two rambunctious fireflies absorbed in our own light, we ignore their appeal. Perhaps the last daylit bird or first nocturnal frog will pause from their windings down and up to bow to the dreaming galaxy – or, at least, offer it a nod.