The Precious Night.=

 I’ve been wishing on the first star and the new moon since I was a kid.

The other night it was with the new moon, and then the first star; it was two wishes for my daughter, I don’t need them for myself anymore.

But I still believe.

One, in Japan, the first star; across the wire mesh of a fence was for my son.

And my wife who didn’t know at the time.

But was wishing , in her way, far away.

Tonight the night is coming, settling on the first day of the cuckoo: dark clouds hang in the south wast, the wind is from the south and rain is not far afield.

Already the dry leaves of autumn past are rustling impatiently on the grass.

If you came now you would see no new moon, no first star – just the flames of the bonfire as they also settle toward sleep.

I’m waiting.

Someone is about to join me.

Someone that is as precious as all this.