Yesterday, I was thrilled at the possibility of northern lights being visible in Connecticut. I have vivid memories of the handful of times I have witnessed this display of dancing light, but it’s been ages since I saw them last. These mysterious lights must have been terrifying to people throughout history without our knowledge of solar flares and ions bumping into Earth’s atmosphere. Fortunately, knowing this doesn’t diminish their beauty or their ability to inspire.

I don’t share my own poetry very often, but I couldn’t find a poem that matched my memories or feelings about the auroras I’ve seen. So here is a very rough draft of a poem inspired by watching northern lights with my boys in March of 1989.

“Aurora Borealis”

Do you remember

that spring night, long ago,

when we stood on the lawn,

transfixed?

We gazed up in awe

as curtains of shimmering light

danced across the sky,

wrapping the big dipper

in veils of glowing green.

Your eyes grew wide

when a burst of red

flared and rippled,

casting an eerie glow

over the countryside.

“What is it, Mommy?”

you wanted to know.

“Magic,” I replied.

© Catherine Flynn, 2014

Gaze at the world through the eyes of a four-year old today and be amazed. And, for plenty of amazing poetry, be sure to stop by Mainely Write, where Donna has the Poetry Friday roundup.