13 August 2024 (beyond)

beyond

the bonfire sparks

meteor shower

12 August 2024 (the afterlife)

the afterlife of a rooster Perseids

31 December 2023 (the coyotes)

the coyotes fall silent meteor shower

Happy New Year! Thank you for your support of my haiku!

22 October 2022 (a flash)

a flash of insight

lost on waking—

Orionids

11 August 2020 (crickets)

meteor shower

the night air thick

with crickets

13 August 2019 (moon)

moonlight on water

instead of falling stars

sturgeon moon

August 8: River of Heaven

Night of falling stars--

how sad the Milky Way

still separates the lovers.

 

Although a month late by traditional reckoning, last night while we were in the backyard watching for falling stars from the Perseid meteor shower, I was thinking about Tanabata. This Japanese festival (also celebrated for centuries in China and Korea) celebrates the one night each year that two lovers, normally kept apart by the Milky Way, are allowed to meet. The two lovers--a weaver and a cowherd--are symbolized by the two bright stars Altair and Vega, visible last night directly over our house on either side of the Milky Way.

 

In this drought

the River of Heaven's low enough

for lovers to cross.

 

Posted with Blogsy

December 13: Winter Storm Watch

One day before the storm
night sky clear enough
to see falling stars.

April 22: Lyrids

Tonight the Lyrid meteor shower peaks. But the waxing moon is too bright most of the night. And I'm not the kind of person who can wake before dawn, just after the moon has set, so I can freeze half-awake in the back yard waiting for stars to fall. Those wishes will have to remain unexpressed until the next shower of space dust.

In the moon-washed sky
Big Dipper spills onto our house
unseen meteors.

December 12: Night sky

In the backyard tonight braving the cold for a few minutes in hope of seeing some of the Geminid meteor shower. Clear sky on a new moon night, perfect for star-gazing. This pattern of constellations is the same one I first learned as a child studying the stars with a well-thumbed Golden Book--for me, the night sky's most familiar face. Over the roof peak poise the two stars of Gemini, Castor and Pollux; Orion climbs the sky beyond my neighbor's garden; Auriga, the Charioteer, pauses high over Mount Battie; the V of Taurus the Bull sits just below the blurred cluster of the Pleiades. And almost inside that V, bright Jupiter.

With binoculars, I can see three of Jupiter's four Galilean moons--the largest and brightest satellites of our largest planet--as well as the true redness of Aldebaran, the alpha star of Taurus. I don't expect to last long enough to see an actual meteor. But as I shiver and the cloud of my breath rises to the heavens, a quick falling star flashes behind a net of birch branches. I say "Thank you!" to the sky before rushing back into the warm house.

No need to make a wish.
This sky, these stars--
all I want right now.

August 13: Perseids

The Perseid meteor shower peaks today. This summer shower always carries a festive connotation for me, because it coincides with my friend Woody's birthday. Woody and I used to work at a writers conference in Vermont together every August, the dates of which always overlapped with his birthday. However we chose to celebrate (and being writers, we were creative--think pinatas, night swimming, tequila), the evening was never complete without a viewing of the meteor shower from some strategic point on the conference's rural campus. I don't think there's a better place to watch falling stars than one of the Bread Loaf hayfields surrounded by the profound dark of the Green Mountain National Forest. Our viewing was often punctuated by the howling of coyotes hunting in the river valley. Their wild yipping and the usually dramatic meteor show seemed the perfect birthday celebration. (As I said in my post two days ago, sometimes when it's your birthday, good things seem to revolve around you.)

After the Red Sox hit their fourth home run against Texas tonight (and their third in a row!), it seemed safe to leave the game for a few minutes to step out back and see if the sky was clear. It was, so I decided to stay out long enough to see one falling star. Perseus rises directly over our roof, so I had an unobstructed view. What I at first thought was a faint haze was, I realized when my eyes had adjusted, the Milky Way. My celestial observations were accompanied by an acoustic guitar sing-along on our neighbors' back porch tonight, creating an enjoyable if unusual atmosphere in which to watch the night sky. I was reminded a bit of those past summers at Bread Loaf.

I saw a falling star in less than five minutes and realize now that I should have made a wish on it for the Red Sox: Texas has since responded with three home runs of their own. Friday the 13th does not appear to be our star pitcher Josh Beckett's lucky day. But I'm happy nonetheless and look forward to going out to the back yard to rack up a few more wishes after the game.

Meteor shower:
Perseus tosses out stars,
each pitch a bright wish.