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It's nice to think that once, very long ago
maybe the stars
were the first thing we talked about
sure, there were grunts for "bring" "meat" "here"—
but that's not it:
what brought us out of darkness.

And so now, tonight, deep in Mississippi
—neither tourist nor hunting season—
as I'm alone and seeing them
(or almost alone, as a truck roars over the gravel)
I'm seeing the same thing any of us ever have
no different to the naked eye

A few miles north, heavy machinery drones
and a dog won't shut up in the east
close to me, the sounds of the woods are subtle
and very soft
under the sound of my pen on the page
And I have mixed feelings:

My bed is inside a half-ton of steel.

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