The night watch keeps an eye on the sky.
Awareness of being one among aware beings
Is an impossibly esoteric, dangerously toxic,
Prohibitively costly, and perilously fugitive
Existence. It needs guarding while it rests,
And only one of its own can guard the rest.
The poet in the watchtower shifts from thought
To thought, wishing there were a password
One could demand of shooting stars. Wait
For it by describing the wait, over and over,
Every poem a snapshot collected for comparison
To every other poem, scanned by the seeker of pattern
Looking for that glimpse of dragon wings moving
Against the backdrop of repeated terms and rhythms.
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