If clouds clear before dawn, we'll see remnants of Halley's
dust ripping the sky.

If we wake in time, we'll monitor the spectacle for the peak hour
during the dim new moon.
If all continues as planned, we can endure the crick in our necks,
the crisp air of spring.

The back door opens, we tiptoe outside, and there's a warning growl.
The black bear tenders its ritual
down the muddy mountainside. The train whistles and wheels,
rattling the whole valley below.

Cotton clouds scrim bright orbs, hide Aquarius high in the southeast.
If we are patient,
if we are good, if we are silent, if we are amenable, if we are waiting
we never arrive.