A November Night
Smoke wafts across the blue,
Burning old, fading leaves gold,
Coaxing the violet out of the azure
To make a true dark sapphire.
The moon is but a bow,
Pulled taught in some invisible hand,
Aimed at nothing
The arrow flies
Into the empty pot of
The Big Dipper.
Maybe Aquarius can fill it with water,
Lift it in his hands and leave it to boil
Over Saturn's rings,
And Cassandra, with her lovely smile,
Can sing a spell over it
To make the stars align.
The dog will bark,
The warrior will howl,
And the bear will rear on her back legs
To better see the peering face
Staring up at her gleaming eyes.
Okay, so, background story! I was taking a little walk at night, something that I would not recommend anyone else do alone, and I couldn't help but look up at the stars every once in a while just to admire them. I'm from an urban setting, so I'm use to the night sky being washed out by the brightness of hundreds of street lamps, but after going to college in a more rural area, I've come to realize just what I was missing out on. This poem is basically just my reaction to the beauty of the night sky.