Small Delights

by Pamela Manasco

Four years after Halley's comet made its 1759 revolution

Charles Messier discovered star clusters. 

He was looking instead for more comets, noting stars 

as a way of marking what he didn't want: heavenly bodies that didn't

move. Imagine a squirrel mapping driveway gravel, 

imagine the way I place together jigsaw puzzles: 

trying each same-colored piece without much

thought, not wanting to think, and imagine the star clusters

immovable as boulders on which ships could break apart.

And manufacturers call the parts of a puzzle piece 

tabs for knobs, or blanks for holes. I am always surprised 

that a small thing has a name when I 

am looking for it. Every time I learn a word like this I love 

these small delights, that there are things I don't know,

that choosing to remain rewards, like if I examine 

winter-bare tree limbs on cold almost blue 

mornings I will see a message in the branches, like there is 

language to find. Imagine looking for comets 

and finding none and not giving up, crossing an ocean of stars

and finding only stars. Imagine me planting a hickory tree 

for a harvest in ten years time, and still here to see it.