high above your head,
embedded in dark, like diamonds…
against black velvet?
Look closely, my son, for this
may be the only chance
I’ll have to show you the Milky Way
which I watched often
when I was your age.I’m so busy, my child.
I hurry so — not knowing
for certain why
I must rush headlong
through life but realizing,
there is no other avenue.
Do you see the big and little dippers?
They’re there, aren’t they?
Just as always? Oh, child!
Take time somewhere between cartoons,
football and music to look for them.
They were beautiful,
once . . . .
I’m sorry.
What shall you tell your son?
© 2014 Freeda Baker Nichols