One Enchanted Evening...
Two brothers and a dog in a tent,
camping out in their own back-yard.
Mum had said, “Don’t forget –
torches off by ten. I shall check, mind!”
Surreptitiously, night swoops down,
Cimmerian winged – enveloping all,
and the sky falls dark above the trees.
Deprived of their TV – instead they chat
of galaxies, giant-reds, black-holes...
Gazing at the stars – saucer-eyed.
“Did you know,” says one, “lots of the stars
are already dead...ages ago, long before
you and me were born?
That means, what we’re seeing now,
may not actually exist. Sometime soon
the Little Dipper could disappear.
What if we run out of stars completely?
What of future generations?
Will there be some left?”
“Not sure,” comes the reply. “Let’s check
with Mum...in the morning.”
“Oh, yes; I think so,” she says. Even for them...
two boys and a dog in a tent, camped out
beneath a soft, September moon.