Night Optics
Night Optics by Laura L. Hansen Sometimes, at night, I feel my mind opening like an observatory, feel the dome of my thoughts crack open to the universe of possibilities. Voices pour down on me like stars lighting my way and I sit up in the frizzling dark, illuminated, focused, ready for poetry to become me.
Is poetry the far off intelligence we wait for? Is it an abduction, a visitation, a question, an all-knowing?
Woke up with my mind buzzy with thoughts. Pulled back the curtain to see the half moon was as orange as a firestorm. Shivers along my arms though it was a warm night.