Twinkle, Twinkle

Winter doesn’t offer many consolations. It gets dark before dinnertime. The landscape is brown and bare and the trees, which only yesterday blazed with fiery reds and brilliant yellows, stand skeletal against the gunmetal sky. During the worst of it the cold and snow drive us indoors and underneath the covers, bury us in heavy clothes and force us to rush from shelter to shelter, head bent against the wind. Even the streetlamps and storefronts festooned with decorations do little to buoy the spirit, especially when the holidays have come and gone and we realize that we still have three more months until spring.

On the other hand, there is this: winter offers some of year’s most magnificent starscapes. And beginning tonight, skywatchers are in for a special treat. The annual Leonid meteor shower is set to sprinkle the night skies with pixie dust over the next few days. Although most of the tiny meteors (actually dusty debris from the comet Tempel-Tuttle) are no bigger than a grain of sand, they leave long, fiery streamers of light as they burn up in Earth’s atmosphere.

If you have some time, take a stroll outside these next few nights and spend a little while watching the heavens for these shooting stars. If you have kids, by all means, bring them, too. So what if you have to bundle up a bit? Make some decaf coffee and some hot chocolate for the kids. Sit on a couple lawn chairs and wrap yourselves up in a blanket. Then watch the fireworks begin. Trust me, it’s magical.

If I can’t convince you, maybe the great poet Stanley Kunitz can with his fabulous poem, “Halley’s Comet.”

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Halley’s Comet


Miss Murphy in first grade

wrote its name in chalk

across the board and told us

it was roaring down the stormtracks

of the Milky Way at frightful speed

and if it wandered off its course

and smashed into the earth

there'd be no school tomorrow.

A red-bearded preacher from the hills

with a wild look in his eyes

stood in the public square

at the playground's edge

proclaiming he was sent by God

to save every one of us,

even the little children.

"Repent, ye sinners!" he shouted,

waving his hand-lettered sign.

At supper I felt sad to think

that it was probably

the last meal I'd share

with my mother and my sisters;

but I felt excited too

and scarcely touched my plate.

So mother scolded me

and sent me early to my room.

The whole family's asleep

except for me. They never heard me steal

into the stairwell hall and climb

the ladder to the fresh night air.



Look for me, Father, on the roof

of the red brick building

at the foot of Green Street --

that's where we live, you know, on the top floor.

I'm the boy in the white flannel gown

sprawled on this coarse gravel bed

searching the starry sky,

waiting for the world to end.