Julia Dickinson ’22
Under the Stars A summer’s night, nowhere near fall At a town gathering, welcoming all, Everyone watches, waiting for the call, And as they appear, time seems to stall. Bursts of light flood the sky. We all jump, clap, and start to cry. Our souls reach up and want to fly— To be like the light, way up high. It all settles down, still nice and dark, So we start to relax, settling into the park. The light still blooms, forming an arc, But I hear something new, one lighting—a spark. Artificial light blooms into great flame, So we sit around and play a game. They begin to sing, and we do the same, If only daylight never came. All are tired, ready for bed, But the sun pokes out its little head. It gleams orange, almost red, And that’s when we know our night is dead.
22
