I was reading about the Herschels:
Caroline, out on the lawn, catching comets by the tail;
and William, stretching a ruler from star to star.
Across the street, my neighbour
climbed a ladder and gathered an armful of light,
wound round his elbow on invisible thread.
(Viewed with attention, like the Herschels’,
the Pleiades become a sisterhood
more inclusive than first thought.)
To see this for myself, I’d have to go out
in the dark garden, unafraid
of what I might learn, of what might
disrupt my preconceptions, require me
to expand my imagination,
and watch, and wait.
