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Even In the Nighttime
1.
At night as she lay on her bed in the
open
or in the tent with some of the canvas rolled
back
she could see the
sky
she watched the
sky
she watched the
stars
not for ten minutes or a quarter-hour as most people
did
but for hour after hour after
hour
even astronomers did not take in the sky with such
devotion:
for they were constantly occupied with
charting,
measurements, the fallibilities of their earthbound
instruments:
the concentration upon one or another celestial
problem.
2.
Unlike shepherds or drovers and the rough and privileged
woodsmen
who worked and slept outdoors she was seldom
tired
the abandoned stars were hers for the many rich hours of
sparkling
winter nights and unattended she took them in like
lovers
she felt that she looked out not
up
into the spacious universe: she knew the names of every bright
star
and all the constellations and she was familiar
with
the vast billowing nebulae in which one
filament
of a wild and shaken mane carried in its tail a hundred billion
worlds
in a delirium with the humming crackling hissing of the galaxy's
edge:
a perpetual twilight, a gray dawn of heaven's many
galleries.
At night as she lay on her bed in the
open
or in the tent with some of the canvas rolled
back
she could see the
sky
she watched the
sky
she watched the
stars
not for ten minutes or a quarter-hour as most people
did
but for hour after hour after
hour
even astronomers did not take in the sky with such
devotion:
for they were constantly occupied with
charting,
measurements, the fallibilities of their earthbound
instruments:
the concentration upon one or another celestial
problem.
2.
Unlike shepherds or drovers and the rough and privileged
woodsmen
who worked and slept outdoors she was seldom
tired
the abandoned stars were hers for the many rich hours of
sparkling
winter nights and unattended she took them in like
lovers
she felt that she looked out not
up
into the spacious universe: she knew the names of every bright
star
and all the constellations and she was familiar
with
the vast billowing nebulae in which one
filament
of a wild and shaken mane carried in its tail a hundred billion
worlds
in a delirium with the humming crackling hissing of the galaxy's
edge:
a perpetual twilight, a gray dawn of heaven's many
galleries.
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