I walk under the trees of my back yard
Weaving between the darkness of a moonless night
And the hard brightness of electric porch light.
Some sounds travel on a light breeze.
The crunching of my feet
Breaking through the frozen, crystallized crust of snow
With the melodious metallic sound of a wind chime
Carried like a fragile note into the night.
I look up through the finger like tree branches.
I smile at the cold winters sky
Full of bright, sharp stars
Gently twinkling because of atmospheric condition.
Then a connection from my childhood.
The poems and stories of twinkling stars,
I often wondered then how they would sound.
Fifty years later I discover the tones.
The slightly altered sound of winter chilled wind chimes
Matching the flicker in the small points of the skies light.
Memories flood with satisfaction
As well as an answer to a child's question.
Dan Gray
February 23, 2013
Jul 4, 2025
Jul 4, 2025 at 5:37 PM UTC
I walk under the trees of my back yard
Weaving between the darkness of a moonless night
And the hard brightness of electric porch light.
Some sounds travel on a light breeze.
The crunching of my feet
Breaking through the frozen, crystallized crust of snow
With the melodious metallic sound of a wind chime
Carried like a fragile note into the night.
I look up through the finger like tree branches.
I smile at the cold winters sky
Full of bright, sharp stars
Gently twinkling because of atmospheric condition.
Then a connection from my childhood.
The poems and stories of twinkling stars,
I often wondered then how they would sound.
Fifty years later I discover the tones.
The slightly altered sound of winter chilled wind chimes
Matching the flicker in the small points of the skies light.
Memories flood with satisfaction
As well as an answer to a child's question.
Dan Gray
February 23, 2013
I first published this here in 2013 but don't know where it went so I thought to put it back out to the world.
