Highlighter Skies

Every day we watch for highlighter blue
That steals palely up the eastern hill,
Covering the gold-rimmed sky
With hints of coming blue, dark blue, dark.
We must not name it too soon, for fear
It is only blue, and not highlighter.

The supper table where we sit
Draws a line up to the sky
Dividing our highlighter darkness from
The hazy orange of the glowing mountains.
Her little hand grasps her fork, pausing
Above the wooden tabletop,
Waiting for the moment of brightness.

At first the highlighter is fading, old,
We are almost ready to throw it away –
This means we must be patient.
We are amazed each evening at its depth,
Brightness, beautiful enough to write with.
The mountains flame up and we are
Caught between two horizons of light.
This moment is brief – we watch, breathless,
Searing the color of blue in our eyes.

Tomorrow it might not come.

As the westbound orange fades to a line of yellow,
The highlighter deepens, pulling out the stars,
Setting them atop its darkness.



~Me