Published in The Christian Science Monitor
October 27, 1982
Angra do Heroismo; 1944
Autumn. Full moon night.
Barely visible on the horizon,
stars spell your name in the dark sky.
I can read all the letters.
They are like carving on a tree,
uneven, enduring, deeply etched
and only seen by one who looks
for such things.
The earth is patient in its turnings.
Quietly, I, too wait for a winter night
to show another set of stars.
The houses of heaven will advance;
the message, two names, will emerge.
The night sky will tell the tale
to those of us who look for such things.
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