Love, see how to the naked eye this star
cluster ignites astronomers’ visions.
Eratosthenes, on Cyrene hill far
from Greece, imagined shining manger, on
each side a feeding ass awarded heaven
for bearing Dionysus and Silenus
to defeat Titans. Aratos christened
it Little Mist. Stargazers around us
see a beehive. I view a jeweled face,
glowing points of forehead, cheekbones, and chin,
a moistened glistening—celestial trace
of graceful Alcyone newborn, risen
from the sea. Yes, a new myth I’ve designed.
Or now reality: Your face divine.
Roger Armbrust
September 20, 2008
