EYES DRINKING YOU

 

Way down low

On the Southern horizon

According to my handy planisphere

Appears the Teapot

Eight-star “asterism”

Meaning a group of stars

Too big to be a cluster

Too small to be a constellation

Sagittarius, that mighty centaur

Traveling with his own kettle

 

Stumbling out at midnight

My infamous pack of hounds

Howling at the moon

My neighbors forced to open doors

Allowing their better-trained dogs

To join the joyful song

 

Groggy from sleep

I gaze at the teapot

Beautifully visible

Without my myopia-cursed glasses

I crave some Russian Caravan tea

Smoky from bamboo

Full of caffeine

 

Then imagine Scorpius

Swinging stinging tail

Watching Capricornus and Aquarius

Surrounding the Teapot

Thinking of the anomaly

Of winter constellations

Appearing in my 90 degree yard

Remembering that the Southern Hemisphere

Is deep in winter

Wondering if they see these

Or are they gazing at our summer ones

In their darkened sky

 

Lost in the vastness of space

A mystery I lovingly embrace

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

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