alone in the night
on a dark hill
with pines around me
spicy and still,
and a heaven full of stars
over my head,
white and topaz
and misty red;
myriads with beating
hearts of fire
that aeons
cannot vex or tire;
up the dome of heaven
like a great hill,
i watch them marching
stately and still,
and I know that I
am honored to be
witness
of so much majesty.
happy birthday, sara teasdale
