I missed the aurora borealis again,
but I don’t mind all that much.
I would rather not muse about
how small I am
when all I care to know is so small.
And I don’t have time to be reminded
that I’m at the whim of the sun
by a brief skyful of miracle
blown in on a light solar wind.
That’s why I was inside, texting you
that we’ll see each other another time
and we both revelled in the lie
that we might have a say in the matter
as the light beat against the blinds.
Uncultured Review 