At 5:00 a.m. I push myself
     up from the mattress
          put on the ground to view

the multitude of fireflies rising
     from the thick grown field
          of timothy into the moonless sky

We rest on the south facing slope
     of Dividng Ridge where the Milky Way
          pours down into the pitcher

of Sagittarius. Sandwiched between 
     the soft snore of grandchildren 
          and the damp air of dew point

I answer an old man’s urge to stand
     and releive a battered bladder.
          Still in half dream of high seas

I sway and struggle to gain
     a semblance of consciousness 
          and look up to see a line

of pearls strung across the firmament:
     Saturn, Jupiter. Mars, waning Moon,
          and glittering Venus in the far

eastern glow of the approaching Sun.
     Should I wake the children?
          No. They have a lifetime

to find this on their own.  I’m 
     content to be here alone, to hear
          the cock’s constant crow,

the children’s rhythmic breathing,
     the silence of the last fireflies