The Stars Knew That...

I looked out the window and saw my reflection over the world beyond
I didn’t much care for it.
I strained to see the street, the courtyard, the stars, the trees beyond
To no avail: my own reflection blocked my view
The air conditioner hummed, and I sat, and looked for inspiration
Finding none, my gaze returned to my reflection, and I sneered.
It sneered back. How could it not?
I did not want to see myself, but as I looked into its eyes, I stopped.
I laughed, and stepped aside, and looked upon the world, and saw not ‘me’
The night was clear, the stars shone bright, and cars were passing in the road
And all the night went on.
You can’t see truth by your own light: the stars knew that.
I didn’t.

Looking Back

Hard, dull, cracked brown bark;
Green, green moss growing in the cracks;
An old child’s tree-house falling off it,
Boards rotten through and soggy with rain;
The old tree looms large in memory,
But it’s less large here looking at it..

Beneath a dreary February sky,
The withered old tree, covered
in new leaves
and fragrant, white flowers.

Birdsong

Two men walking down the road,
And each not unfamiliar with such company,
Heard a birdsong drifting through sun-dappled leaves
Of stately birches there on either side.
“Now there’s a happy bird,” one said.
“He’s being territorial,” the other replied.

Long Day

Long Day
by P.H. Wise

It had been a long, long day. My hair was soaked through and plastered wetly to my head. I was cold. My second floor apartment was warm, and I knew I’d get there once I got out of these wet clothes and into something more comfortable. I kicked off my heels, stripped off my stockings, and took a moment to luxuriate in the feel of the warm carpet beneath my damp toes. I went into my bedroom, took off my wet clothes and got into my pajamas. They were warm, and my mood improved immediately.

Lightning flashed in the window, and a crack of thunder split the night. There, out the window: lightning flashed again, and by its brief light, I saw him. I saw him standing in the rain, soaked to the bone, looking up at the lights of the apartment complex with a strange expression, like a drowning man in search of something – anything – to keep from going under.

Our eyes met. Our eyes met, and he looked at me in my warm pajamas with my wet, bedraggled hair as if I were a goddess. My heart was moved to pity. I smiled down at him, and his eyes widened, as if he were surprised that anyone would notice him. He bowed deeply, gratitude shining in his eyes. It was only a moment - there and gone - but he seemed strangely content as he walked away into the rainy night, and I watched thoughtfully until I could no longer see him.

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Author’s note: This vignette is my first attempt at a female narrative voice. I'm reasonably well pleased with the result.