Thursday, September 17, 2009

Ode to an Orb

Sirius is bright in the sky this morn
and I am wide awake
I should be breathing, peaceful, deep,
supine, by my wife and our four-month-old.
Instead I sit, keeping lonely vigil with a sphere
I can see it through the kitchen window
bobbing my head to make it appear
otherwise hiding in it's shyness behind the eaves.
Ho bright orb, you double struck suns
the same who's influenced the earth for aeons;
closest star, so pulling in proximity
ancient man said you were the dog
and could weaken and arouse, strike and malign--
but you and I share the waxing dawn together,
every dawn these many weeks
I waiting, facing the east for God
or God knows what,
your patient bightness a flash of white in the dark
that black into gray and blue
the quickening lines of the sky behind
the deeper muting of the peaks, what a trio we three make.
My orb, the stones, and the sky;
I watch until you are swallowed up in the Sun
your crystal eye blind to my fleshy one, lost until another night.
Come sweet sleep, come wrap me in your velvet arms,
come dreams and syanpses firing at random~
those whimsies feighning, this writer's dreams.
Still each morning I have this star, this summer friend,
fixed as Keats would wish him to be;
'Lo Canis Major, my dogged gyre in the sky!


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