On these cold nights, I stand in the window and look at stars. A bright one hangs right over our western deck and the first time I get up, it is close enough to touch. The second time, I watch it set over the green rise beyond Sakinaw Lake, the one my children called Grass Lake Mountain for reasons of their own.
I didn’t watch the inauguration of the new president but I listened to Yo Yo Ma somehow capture the possibility and hope that so many are feeling and also the gravity of the times we live in. I listened as the grace his fingers found in the strings took me — us— from an old hymn to the yearning in Dvorak’s exploration of a new world to a simple dignified dance. We could dance. We could. Now would be the time.
Morning star light the way Restless dreams all gone Shadows gone, break of day Real life has begun
Frost in the grass. A whole constellation glittering beneath my feet.
On these cold nights, we need more comfort. Bring out the old quilts, the variable stars, the Ohio stars, the mended stars, the faded. Sleep under them as that one bright star in the dark sky sets. No need to get up. No need to think about the old president ever again, or say his name.