Son, his father says, <br />why do you stare at the stars? <br />How can something millions <br />of miles away be of any use <br />to us? <br /> <br />Son, of what good is a nest-full <br />of blue-speckled birds’ eggs? <br />They won’t feed your children; <br />nobody will buy them. <br /> <br />Son, why do you plant <br />marigolds and zinnias <br />in furrows that could <br />be used for lettuce <br />and radishes? <br /> <br />Hummingbirds, butterflies, <br />wild ducks on the pond <br />over there: pretty, but we <br />have chores to do, <br />by the sweat of our brows. <br /> <br />**** <br /> <br />One clear night, though, <br />walking out into the moonlit field, <br />the son saw a man standing <br />among the zinnias and marigolds, <br />looking upward: <br />Father, why do you stare at the stars?<br /><br />Sonny Rainshine<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-bond-of-star-gazing/
