Caroline moves her bed to a room over an old stable
by the house, spends almost every night on the flat roof.
Since she knows most of the intricate sky by heart,
she can swiftly notice unusual movement,
such as from a comet, which, coming from beyond,
gives clues about the depths of space.
Most nights Caroline sees nothing new.
Her long skirt billows in the wind. She sings to stay awake.
As she dips her pen in ink, her eyes adjust
from the dark sky to pale paper, because they must.
She won’t ever have an assistant.
She spots another comet! Then goes to bed,
curls up her legs, rests the side of her face on her hands
until pale morning comes. She writes a report
she sends to Dr. Maskelyne at the Royal Observatory.
A few days later, she breaks the sealing wax on an envelope.
Dear Miss Caroline: Congratulations on the sighting,
though I implore should you spot another,
please hasten with such news. As you know,
comets are named after those who first spot them,
which in fact means an astronomer whose claim
first reaches an official. I fear this comet
was first reported in France.
Next time, do not use the penny post.