Stargazing . . .

              alone,
awakening to the sound
            of falling stars . . .

The Geminid star shower starts tonight and continues for the next few nights.  I’ll be watching . . . and listening.  How about you?

 

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About Margaret Dornaus

I’m a writer and a teacher, as well as a haiku-doodler. I live in a beautiful woodland setting, surrounded by native oak forests, that inspires me to record haiku snapshots of luna moths and our resident roadrunner, and even an occasional black bear as it hightails it across the top of my road, my mongrel dog barking at its heels as I watch with wonder. My work as a travel writer has appeared in publications from The Dallas Morning News to the Robb Report. You can find examples of my travel writing–as well as excerpts from a travel memoir I’m working on–at my other WordPress site, Travelin’ On. What more than that do you need to know? Only that I started this blog with an eye toward collaboration. Got a haiku? Send it my way. . . . I’m all about new visions & voices. Best, Margaret
This entry was posted in Haiku, Haiku-doodle, Night sky, Stars, Winter and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to Stargazing . . .

  1. Lovely, Margaret.
    If it weren’t snowing here, I might be tempted to stargaze. 🙂

  2. i like the sound of those falling stars. cool.

    it’s raining here. so if i stargaze i’ll just be washing my eyes out. at the moment. ha. and aloha too.

    • Mahalo, Wrick. I didn’t know this when I wrote the ku, but there is some scientific evidence that you can, sometimes, hear meteors falling. They’re reported to sound like “bacon sizzling,” so it’s a whole banquet of heavenly delights! Cool ku on you, too: “star islands,” nice!

      • Mahalo Margaret – after re-reading that ku. i think it would be better if i switch the 1st and 3rd lines:

        winter sky
        in the deep black sea
        star islands

        one summer i saw a meteor fire ball – about half the size of a full moon plus a fire tail – streak from horizon to horizon in broad daylight – it was 1 PM – i was working on a road crew with one other guy. we both stopped and watched it for what seemed like a long time – may be 30-40 seconds. it was like a low flying airliner heading north. i found an article on it in the newspaper the next day saying what it was and that it had been seen from colorado or may be further south (if i remember right) on up into or near canada. we were on a highway that followed a river working on a clean up detail of the paving company i worked for in summers at that time. no other cars or people around. i couldnt take my eyes off it but i spoke to the other guy asking if he could see what i was seeing. he was silent and then said, yeah. i dont think he wanted to take his eyes off it to see if that’s what i was looking at either. now, i’m trying to think if there was sound. the river near by was running over shallow rapids so i might have connected a sizzling sound to that rush of the river… fun tho.

        • Yes. I think I agree with you, Wrick, that I like the lines switched . . . . There are some powerful meteor showers in late summer and September, the Leonids, I think. The sizzling sound I read about has to do with vibrations that the meteor makes as it passes; another, apparently more common, sound associated with meteor showers is like a sonic boom, but it’s an “after sound.” Interesting. I’m trying to get more star savvy. Tonight and tomorrow the Geminid peaks. Funny thing is I did wake up last night/this morning at 5:30 a.m., crawled upstairs (bedroom’s underground) and looked out in time to see at least one falling store. Strange, eh?

  3. alee9 says:

    And so, we braid our stargazing moments together. Thank you, Margaret for these delightful evenings! I love your haiku–the sound of a shooting star and that it’s true!
    Still no hope of me ever seeing the meteor shower soon here in rainy Vancouver with evening skies almost always grey.

    But here’s my first sighting of a shooting star. I wrote it as a journal some ten years ago when I stayed at Angeles Estates in the Philippines’ central plains. Nothing but acres of rice fields, edged by the Sierra Madres the sky those evenings did tantalize. One evening I finally caught a shooting star…

    “It flared in the shape of wings, and was gone in a blink – my first shooting star…

    …My eyes were trailing a white dog, yellowed under a weak moon, when the star must have started to skid. When I turned to break a branch to whip the ground and drive the dog away—that was when I glimpsed the flare.

    It had vanished before I could breathe. I laughed; my laughter had bubbled off my heart without my coaxing. When I turned for someone whom I can tell of my star, the night had turned: the moon had burst out of the clouds, the blooms began to glisten with dew; and the dog was gone.

    Was it a dream?”

    shooting star—
    a flap of wings
    the same sky?

    I’ll post the whole journal (turned haibun just now!) from which this was excerpted at jornales.

  4. alee9 says:

    Part of my reply: “Mil de mil, gracias, mi hermana! I’m totally, totally overwhelmed…”

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