Life With Horace

poetry & essays

Leave a comment

sky shapes

the night’s first star
has always drawn my wish,
a bit of time connected
rite passed down to me,
hopes for others only
was the rule.
I learned of stars
eyes looking up
to summer brilliance
thrown across the sky
searching out the simple shape
of seated vanity, of bear,
or clutch of distant sisters.
now, when summer lushness
fades to cold black night,
my champion comes,
a hunter standing winter watch
the brightest stars his prize,
and knowing that he sees
and guards my far flung clan,
I have no need to wish
for more

for day 2 (a day late) of NaPoWriMo 2015. The prompt was to write about the stars, no hardship there.