Was it the yellowing of the moonlight
slicing a diagonal across the room
that woke me in the beginning,
or a sound like windchimes
ruffled with a predawn breeze?
Or did the scorched-grass scent
drag me from my dreams?
I ventured outside, slippers scuffing
across the dew-soaked grass
along a smoking trail
to a flame-licked tree
raising a cloud that obscured
the constellations’ forms.
A blinding shape bayed
at the base of the burning trunk
and sparks flew up, guiding
my dazed vision to another pair
of terrified eyes, a possum,
racoon, or a neighbor’s cowering cat,
leaping to safety beyond the blaze,
rescued at last by Orion’s unearthly
call, “Down, boy! Here, boy,
come on Sirius! Let’s go home.”
Then all was dark but fading embers
and our two sets of stunned, blinking eyes.
My friend challenged me to write a poem from the prompt “a star comes down.” Also inspired by GoDogGoCafe.