Sunday, February 28, 2010

The angel sings when the stars pop

180 degrees upward,
tilt your head

A flutter of wings may stir inside
as the asterism of Ursa Major broaches the night sky.
Clusters of glowing dust may just have ignited the incentive of jewelry;
the way
they dance and sparkle
could have sparked the first necklace...
ever in history.

sip, sip, stir, sip, one more stir...
this cup of joe just is not doing it.
The tremble of my sleepy hand
carries the carafe past the stream of morning light.
Oh, the heavens of this daylight...
maybe a different roast will just do the trick.

Sometimes the daylight only brings on
a certain hibernation:
not so sleepy.
almost awake.

Oh, Ursa Major,
make my night my day.
My carafe may be in pieces
but I shan't care more.
I am awake!

What is thy potion?
I ask the cosmos in vain.
Threads of wonder weave into a rope.
An anchor lies at the end.
So, onward and upward...
bend your neck backwards
and tilt your head upward
180 degrees.

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