by Mary Brunini McArdle
Moon: I know you truly are a globe,
Though why God made you such
I often wonder. You could have been
A triangle and just as lovely -
Tumbling through space,
Point over bright point flashing.
Star: They say you are a sphere,
But could they be mistaken?
Like a flat sheet billows in the wind,
Your corners sparkle
In numbers infinite -
Your center is a plane of glass
Intended as a mirror for our souls.
Asteroid: Unfortunate piece of rock,
With jagged edges, sharp, exposed -
Not so - you’re a computer chip,
Endeavoring to complete a form,
But like a cheap dot matrix,
Showing your true nature at a glance.
Sun: Majestic orb of heat and light,
I think you are an angel’s eye;
Stern being with an unrelenting glare,
Staring at us mortals from the sky;
Until I see your lashes made of clouds -
And your gaze softens with a wink.
Comet: What costume do you choose?
You’ve seen the history of our race -
I’d guess a triple tail suffices;
Court jester of the firmament,
Wearing your little hat,
And jingling your merry bells.
Meteor: a bit of space debris,
Burning out in your approach -
Or symbol of our finite lives?
Brief beauty seen and beauty lost,
Destroyed in a gasp of air.
Copyright © 2006 by Mary Brunini McArdle