By Tom Squitieri
I like to talk to the sky when all others are sleeping
The time of far off fox cries
Trees rustling with sleeping birds
My old dog crooning in his sleep like a puppy
While those in far off parts of the universe
Smile at my enthusiasm and tranquility
Stars on a clear night,
hidden moonbeams frolic for me
Clouds merrily dance
The invitation of the rare meteor
It’s always a wonderful night
The sky has become my friend more
Each week, each year
Patiently waiting for me to acknowledge
Gifts it is giving and waited to give
Portals that await me still
Beauty of the unknown
My true home
Do not question why I am up
During these hours
Ask instead why you are not
The sky has room for many
Who know what
Train whistles at night mean
Tom Squitieri is an award-winning war correspondent, is blessed to have his poetry appear in several publications, the book “Put Into Words My Love,” the art exhibition Color: Story2020, and the film “Fate’s Shadow: The Whole Story.” He writes mostly while parallel parking or walking his dogs, Topsie and Batman. Find him on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and his blog.