All Road

Weird string of speck lights
From the north to east
Sky just at first light,

A straight line of them,
Eight or nine or ten,
Not quite fast or slow,

Not stars and not planes,
Too close to be spheres
That beep down to us,

No sound, and not long.
Each came out of dark
And then back in dark,

Like lives. When the string
Spanned the width of two
Or three moons, no more,

Then they all went, one
And by one, and gone.
And that was the end.