THE STUDY OF NIGHT, Lindsay Hirschman An observer, I am, of the night and its clouds Catching my eye in moments profound Earnest feelings evoke memories in a shroud because time itself might’ve stopped or unwound The planes and clouds whiz in synchronized speeds Blinking bright speckles above a skyline of trees shaking in the wind, seperating life from dreams It creates a new optic—sublime and serene An observer, I am, of the moon and its stars Find a glimmer of hope in my residual heart Neighbors’ yellow lights are nothing beyond compare with nature’s brightest mirror: the moon and its glare The looking glass welcomes the moon from afar Casting light upon myself, a shadow in the dark The window of perspective now merges between nostalgia, the present, and what will come to be Cooking and chopping and the muffles of T.V. This unpause in time alludes to reality But the distraction is not one of despare A mere accompany to this night, euphoric with flare The window of perspective allows me to see felicity and hope in unknowing times of need So I gaze out my window, inside of my home where I observe earth’s sonder, peacefully alone
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