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No Wonder
Stephen Dunn

We were sitting in our Adirondacks
high up in the Appalachians,
sipping margaritas. Our dog Bigdog
chewed spikes of grass, worried perhaps
we’d again get out the suitcase,
and time immeasurable and those nights
with strangers would commence.
But we were staying put. The clouds
had moved on, multiplying
the stars. Though we missed
the penumbra around the moon
and its curious shadows, not to mention
the feeling that we might be concealed,
we welcomed the suddenly omnipresent
sky, toasted it with those margaritas.
No wonder so many before us—
before electricity, before science
and its more verifiable maybes—
dreamed an existence up there.
They didn’t have suitcases to pack.
They weren’t lucky like us
to have an animal they didn’t need
to eat. Hear that, Bigdog? I said,
your worries should have a little more
historical perspective. This world
is ours. We’re going nowhere tonight.

from Everything Else in the World