Shoal of stars

A winter's night.

A canopy of branches casts 
an inky net across the sky. 

The air is cold;  
dark as an ocean deep.

Looking up I watch a shoal of stars 
bright as herring flash and
heave in the fishnet weave
of winter twig and branch.

Something in me;
something very, very deep 
from long ago
longs to stretch imagination on tiptoe 
and pluck them shining from their net
to lie as silver sixpence
in my hand. 


(c) A Mc N