It was clear out, something it isn't very often here. I didn't expect to see the sky dancing like that. It was pulsing tapestry made of millions and millions of years of light. Some of those stars shone despite their already being dead.
I saw a shooting star Wednesday night. Which, of course, is not a star at all, but a meteor. Just space dust. Some piece of what's out there, maybe no bigger than a penny, catching fire as it enters Earth's atmosphere. Just burns right up. It's not a dying star at all.
I always thought shooting stars were dying stars when I was a kid and that if I spotted this dying star it would pass me some of its magic on its way out. But that's not it at all.
The city steals our stars, you know. Robs us of them most nights. Seeing a shooting star or flaming sky garbage or dying magic or whatever is up there is a real gift.
(photo by Sam Graham)