Sometimes the aurora borealis moves across night, strands of light that remind me of a spider’s web or a fishnet cast out across the starry skies to pull life in toward it. At other times it reminds me of the lines across a pregnant woman’s belly. It leaves me thinking that maybe our earth, our sky, will give birth to something, perhaps there’s still another day of creation, and the earth is only a little boat with men and women, slugs and manta rays, all floating in a shell across the dark blue face of a god.
