Sipping the nectar of the stars- A Sestina |
Galatia Gratification Like an upturned bowl of glitter, the sky spread overhead. Dearth of ambient light let constellations delight and yet be patterned through, stitched by stars on blue into heavenly quilt. Not without some guilt, I watched the Milky Way hold sway in full extent. Blanket wrapped, I sat content watching the dance of firmament. Orion's rising near dawn, surprising me that I had spent in awed delight an entire night washed in stardust; silver, blue. Tis true, I've never felt so insignificant, yet in a way as darkness paled to fill with day, one filled with content, schedule filled, every moment, I felt energy rising, as if my psyche were re-sizing: no temptation to crawl beneath my spread, curl up in bed. Instead, now with coffee steaming, I still sat as sky turned blue to watch mists streaming off the lake, watched with a smile the way the moon caught colors of day, flung them, added content, as like candles snuffed, stars went out. Vapor trails stung red, pale sun rising. I'm left surmising on eons light traveled that I might watch the dance spread before me all night. Each cell within reverberated in sheer delight. Dew coats, making blanket damp. I need be on my way home, leaving camp and returning to the content of my day, packing stardust and tent together. I hear sounds of voices rising yet here I sit, fantasizing, If I could but spread silvered wings, rather than sit; go where stars sing in delight, chart a course through the night into vast reaches of interstellar blue, I could look back, see true perspective: what truly will make me content? Find some off-planet directive, new set of rules with galaxies rising or like the gannet, plunge back to earth, burning wings spread, turning red as ideas burn with new found intensity? To realize, in delight that I write what I want to be to music of divine nebulae. Never blue, not I, I remind myself, for last night I touched the stars in a way I never had, in ways sublime. Now, more than a daily rising, each day I stretch, refine my view of what is spread before me, sketch with pen with stellar ink, seek out delight in astral star moments, write poetry in deep space blue, seek proponents to find the answers, each bit of dust to light my way. In crimson stars, find ruby slippers: I found the way to be content. Star sipper, I spread wings; in parsecs and light years wend my way past new moons rising to start each day in serene orbit of delight: content to trust in me to find what I need and stay true blue. |