Sometimes you are sun, and so I circle
you in psychic pirouette, warmed by your glow
yet distant from explosion, miracle
in space and time. Sometimes you are moon, show
grace as you circle me, soft shadows of
your body impressing every seeing
eye’s imagination, gazing above
at you reflecting your other being.
Sometimes you are both, aligning with me
in syzygy, your tidal forces, bold
as storms, igniting me, and my tides leap
up toward stars, toward dreams as constant and old
as Hipparchus who, from Rhodes’ acropolis
smiled, first to predict our solar eclipses.
Roger Armbrust
March 11, 2008
