The Scribblers

My Vista Go to Paul's page or click  here  for a new poem from Paul

These were the brightest stars he had ever seen. There was no doubt in his mind. He strained his neck backward to take in as much sky as he could. It was a velvet and cloudless expanse punctuated by pinpricks of silver lights and a yellowish quarter moon. He looked  up with unaccustomed awe. And then he smiled a foolish smile. They were the same stars he had always looked up at. Of course, they were. But they had never shone with such intensity as they did on this balmy Spanish night. He took it as a good sign; the first for a long time. Paul Dolman