November in the Ozarks was going out wet and gray,
until just after sunset Tuesday, when the clouds parted,
and the trees, their bristles stiff and bare,
painted bright streaks in the sky, forecasting clear days to come.
I went outside before light the next morning, warm jacket over my wool robe,
my hands tucked tightly into the pockets.
The waxing moon had set, and countless stars, in all their splendor,
glimmered brightly against an India ink sky.
Constellations, recently emerged from behind their curtain of leaves,
greeted me like old friends.
High above was the Big Dipper,
and Orion, the hunter, leaned toward the lake,
his faithful dog, Canis Major, at his side.
The night sky was silent, but in the morning light,
we heard sounds that turned our faces upward.
A large ragged V of migrating geese was passing overhead,
calling out praises with each beat of their wings.
We walk the earth, we watch the sky,
and we see glory.
The heavens proclaim the glory of God.
The skies display His craftsmanship.
Day after day they continue to speak;
night after night they make Him known.
Also linking with Skywatch Friday