Stars

Soft-scattered at

The dark side of the earth,

Before the dawn -

Horizoned at the beam

    of feathered sunlight -

Pricked me at the touch;

The stars fell.

 

And every star

In falling at my hearth

As day awoke,

(Its slow advancing seam),

The precious, flickered phantoms

Turned to dust,

While snow fell.

 

The children cried,

Delighted at my dearth,

As morning caught

The star in every dream,

And melted every snowdrop

Into rust,

At eve’s knell.

 

And once the petty

Glow that we disperse

Has flickered at

The act we can’t redeem,

May sudden sunlight

Sanctify our trust,

In Noel!

 

David Lewis Paget

 

Reviews

[Rick Puetter]

David,

An interesting poem. Very soft as is the light of stars. Very reflective of mood.

best regards,

Rick