The Night World

In Sight of Orphan Rock, Katoomba
A wonder, so I first think, of giant fireflies,
as moths ignited by arc lights spiral up,
or flare into the valley's blackness.
In the dense beam trained on honeyed rock,
a cosmos of flyers; mites bounce from
hot glass, spin thread into golden globes—
a fertile gleaming as of underwater life.
Winged flames shoot in catherine-wheels,
trace the quizzical loops and dips
of kites trailed by multiple self-images …
Iridescence travels far into darkness
as if congenial to something in plain wings.
Galaxies whirl and explode before me;
fixed sparks canopy a tree-fringed sky.