Monica Scott Nichols Poems

Staring up at the panoramic view of the universe from atop an unlit peak in rural Pennsylvania is akin to taking a front seat before the altar during a high mass. In the hours that the northern hemisphere politely moons the sun, I take advantage of one of the best seats on the planet for the faithful.

Gazing into what inspired van Gogh's famous celestial palette, my senses are awakened, as if summoned by music that tantalizes every cell, from head to toe, and inside out. If you believe, as I do, that we are all made of stardust, then you can understand the spiritual nature of star gazing.
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From the ebb and flow of a fluid, interior abode
to my waiting arms and open heart. A boy.

With eyes wide shut, you instinctively beckon me
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