Cold Night at Ghost Ranch

Listening to the coyotes sing
for the beauty of a full Moon,
chalky, luminous silhouettes,
it occurred to me:
the light, diving headlong into
Georgia's hills and trees,
arises out of an undivided Universe.

Now that I think about it,
an unchecked heliocentric belief is reevaluated.
Our star, our satellite, of course we're intimate,
we're all in love, but there's more.

Day in, day out, ancient, ageless light
from beyond our wildest imaginings,
prickles us,
a delicate tingling sensation.

Then I wonder: What if our Universe is curved?
Does some of this light come from the future?