After the fireworks
but before dawn,
after the crowds crushed past
but before absolutely everyone had made it home,
after the smoke re-formed several times
but before it completely drifted up Burrard Inlet,
after I’d shaken the twigs out of the Mexican blanket
but before it was tucked away for the night,
after I’d made it mostly home
but before, long before I turned the key in the lock,

I had a moment…

Before the sky’s real clouds fully cleared
yet after the circling planes had landed,
before the lighting light blue over the North Shore mountains
yet after the boats had all mostly berthed,
before I was totally engulfed by buildings
yet after I’d left the cleared canopy of Vanier Park,

The moment had me…

As I looked up, just west of the westernmost clouds,
  like up over Vancouver Island,
it could have been Venus, or Saturn or a star, doesn’t matter.
It just sat there, doing nothing
blinking, actually,
on its own, or with atmospheric help, doesn’t matter.
Ignoring us all, or
watching us all, whichever, doesn’t matter.

And it mocked us all.
Mocked our light pollution,
our temporary no parking signs,
our English Bay grandstand and barbeque,
our drunk boaters
our Subway sign trailing that plane.
And before the Symphony of Fire ever was,
and after it’s as dust as Expo nightly laser shows,
that light
above Vancouver Island
will blink.

Copyright 2002, Stephen Buckley
08.07.02, 1030-1100pm