It’s 10pm in Silicon Valley.
This winter night is oddly cold and clear, 
good timing for a drive into the hills. 

My old sedan climbs up La Honda Road,
nimble on the switchbacks, clutch adjusting
the gears easily to changes in grade.

Redwoods on both sides loom large in the dark. 
A sharp left onto Skyline Boulevard
where the road straightens and speed increases.

Elevation almost two-thousand feet.
Around a bend, then shielded by a ridge
from the spill of urban lights below me. 

The moon is flirtatious, waxing full soon. 
Stars assert themselves. Orion is there.
So are both dippers. An eternity 

of constellations. But no green comet,
at least none that I am able to find –
the reason I came all this way out here,

wanting a distraction of cosmic scale
from the post-dinner weeknight routine 
of chores and television before slumber,

which is itself a respite from childcare
between the close of work and when our son 
falls asleep. The comet’s glow is too weak 

for my eyes unaided by telescope. 
Close to midnight when I get home again,
much later than usual for a Tuesday. 

Step inside to the embrace of our home,
warm and familiar. Glad to see you
are still there on the couch watching a show
and will soon join me in bed, like always.