Group Chat/Aurora Borealis
The moon rose, gibbous, gravid
and the pale aurora borealis gathered up
her faded skirts and slipped away.
That is what my brother, northern star-gazer, told us
(though the words are mine – he sent a video).
My southern sister answered immediately,
as she so often does, with the “cool” emoji –
that yellow round disembodied head in sunglasses,
sunny and cheerful, in nature like her.
Our other sister, the oldest, did not respond,
having died before the time of group chats and emojis,
but I am certain her answer would have been appreciative
but brief, unless she was moved to contribute
a technical comment – on solar activity, perhaps,
or the weather.
And I, as usual, am taking too long, lost in memory,
returned to that night on our childhood hilltop,
all of us standing together in the snow, the bitter cold,
our pale faces upturned, speechless beneath the miracle,
the sinuous swaying curtain of light, purple, green, and red,
the universe having come to tell us that the play was about to begin.
Pepper Trail’s poems have appeared in Willawaw, Rattle, Atlanta Review, Catamaran, Ascent and other publications, and have been nominated for Pushcart and Best of the Net Awards. His collection, Cascade-Siskiyou: Poems, was a finalist for the 2016 Oregon Book Award in Poetry. He writes and explores the world from his home in Ashland, Oregon.
