I heard Daisy barking and barking, and something
Made me I usually sleep through her complaints
Slide out the loft, down ladder, careful on slippery
Walnut stairs, through living room, over old Chico
Sleeping on the porch and out onto narrow elm deck
Like in a dream almost, I followed Daisy's slow staccato, and
Naked, hugged myself, shuffled down ramp and up back
Dugout stairs to the flat near goat pens and beehive
Dark worries me, generally, but I had no thought for a light
It wasn't till I was on the flat that I noticed. Now wait
You're so impatient with my telling it seems I ought to just
Give up, but this, this needs told, so wait. Don't ask what
What, Just wait. I can only tell it like it Happened
Cold, I should have been, naked and barefoot in
The October night. And cautious, but I wasn't. You know
That's not like my usual hugging the pillow, making you stumble
Out to see what has the dogs worked up. I had no fear at all
That was the night the potatoes froze up, too, you know, and it
Took a fire next morning to get the chill off the kitchen
But I wasn't cold
No slippers nor robe in the cold and the dark, but not cold
Then Daisy hushed and sat and nearly seemed to smile, and
I smiled, thinking maybe she'd tell me what had her going
But she just sat, like a lovely statue against the side hill
Then I saw. Everything. Light. Saw pens and hive, garden
fence and old truck. The house. Like daylight
And A Good feeling, a happy notion took me. I looked up
Like maybe I could say Thanks. Do you know?
And there he was: Jupiter
Like a white piece of the Sun centered in the sky The stars
All around, pale in his light, but still bright. Jesus!
What a feeling. I just stood and looked until I felt small
Atom small, like a child might feel, but not a Bad feeling
Then Daisy came up beside me, walked past me down the slope to
The stairs, as if to say, there now, I showed you
I followed her back into the house
I didn't want to wake you when I came back into the house
I didn't want to try to talk of the warm brightness
But I hadn't been afraid and I was pleased with that because
I have always been a little afraid up here in the hills
Even in the daytime. But not since then
Remember how frightened I was out in the Moonlight last winter?
Perhaps this winter I'll be able to strike out, outside
The range of your shadow. It's not a promise, but I want to try
Heywood Williams - September, 1988
