Why?
Frozen fingers fiddled on the focus
Dew dripped
Dark hindered
Constellations laughed –
Not least that I was daft –
And made me wonder:
“Why? ”
As nostrils dripped, charts rung damp,
I tripped across the tripod,
Swore – either that or cry!
You’d HAVE to question:
“Why? ”
The once-hot chocolate lost its charm,
I dropped an eyepiece,
Scratched a filter,
Neighbours’ lights were off and on
And on and off, to goad a sigh;
I’m asking loudly:
“Why? ”
And then I found it –
O! the view; behold! the need for depth of night! –
These beauteous heavens out of sight
From straining naked eyes.
Imagination fires a flame –
Sanity free of any blame –
This childish verve to never tame:
My telescope is not a game –
It answers all the “Why’s? ”
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem