A Poem a Day (550): Morning Star

 
Morning Star
 
We row up The Isis in a wooden boat
far too skinny for the wealth of us,
pearl drops sparkling in the curve of
the Horned Moon, heavens darkening.
It averts its eyes. The Queen of Hearts
sleeps, her cards no longer keeping guard,
and the Cheshire Cat has found his head,
is grinning away by this swanless stream.
Born from lava, obsidian waters swirl,
this lunar world silent on a silent breeze.
 
Waves of endless time carry us forth,
and we ignore the languid inauspicious moon,
banking on the Morning Star to be our guide,
the anchor of the northern sky, daydreamer
of the Celestial Sphere. While every other star
turns, it stands still, steadfast, staring down,
an unwavering sky marker for those who follow,
a tiny beacon in the perilous dark.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, January 22, 2023