I capture moments throughout my life where I have gazed at the stars and pondered upon the Creator.
Inverted bowl of blackish blue
Over rural acute-angled roofs,
Girls giggle, bouncing on canvas circle.
Then circumference springs support reclined friends
Musing of sacred mysteries.
Soon we slumber under Perseus’s protection.
- — -
Under beams of immortal moon,
Westward of any plotted town,
Youth leaders guide my eyes
Through magnified lenses
Upon reflective rocks,
Cratered orbs, clouded globes,
Dusted iced rock ovals —
Mere mirrors of superior suns.
Under shroud of bluish black
Adjacent steepled spaces,
Sacred silence encompasses.
My gaze reaches Orion’s belt.
Unlike Orion who hunted beasts,
We’d hunted, nay gathered, ancestors home,
Mortals to achieve immortal mansions.
Like spilled milk across dark granite top,
Within wire perimeters,
Feet sink in the grass,
My finger aims to Polaris
Guiding my son’s eyes above.
Two dippers stream celestial serene,
Intersect upon our axis.
Beneath sky’s stalactites
Over suburban pentagonal homes
Lighted linear paths, darkened rectangle yards
My house obscured; no lights left on.
Two perched on back porch steps.
Warm wind brushes over our squared legs;
Two entwined hands triangulate.
As one outstretched grasp,
our corporeal compass circumscribes
Charted pinpoints, like glimmering glass fragments,
Pressed upon a mosaic map.
I refer to a sleepover, stargazing at a Young Women’s activity, looking at Orion’s belt after doing baptisms for the dead in the Monticello Latter-day Saint temple, and stargazing with my sons and my husband.