I check the locks on the front door
. . . . . . . and the side door,
make sure the windows are closed
. . . . . . . and the heat dialed down.
I switch off the computer,
. . . . . . . turn off the living room lights.
I let in the cats.
. . . . . . . Reverently, I unplug the Christmas tree,
leaving Christ and the little animals
. . . . . . . in the dark.
The last thing I do
. . . . . . . is step out to the back yard
for a quick look at the Milky Way.
. . . . . . . The stars are halogen-blue.
The constellations, whose names
. . . . . . . I have long since forgotten,
look down anonymously,
. . . . . . . and the whole galaxy
is cartwheeling in silence through the night.
. . . . . . . Everything seems to be ok.
- George Bilgere
