Sunday, 5pm, 3rd January

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.