Night Sky In The Suburbs Poem by Bill Munn

In the suburbs there are no moons
traveling midnight skies, cutting
clouds like a buzz-saw, making
stark outlines of doomed
elms on pristine snow.
Stars do not twinkle here.
The dots of light that have
traveled for centuries
cannot penetrate the blush
cast into the sky by the lights
of the nearby city.

Sometimes, when I am all alone,
I can travel back to moonlit hills
of winter near an eastern shore
and see again a million million stars
and feel again the gentleness and
wonder that we knew
before our love became
one more routine, another part
of the rhythm that we let
carry us through loneliness
to our graves.