It must be November...
because I have a frozen moose hide in the back of my truck (courtesy of my brother-in-law, who bagged his antlerless moose on the first day of hunting season, Wednesday, but was going to leave the hide behind until Tom reached him and begged him to pick it up); because my kids were up at 6 am this morning while the stars were still twinkling overhead to accompany Tom on his first day hunting (which ended up as just a walk in the woods); and because, as the school bus went by 30 minutes ago, my three were already on the pond behind the house, skating in the c0ld, swirling snow, fog, and blustery wind. From the back window in the boys' bedroom, I can just make out a dog walking carefully on the ice, and a small orange cap going around and around in circles.
Rhyme of November Stars
by Sara Teasdale
The noiseless marching of the stars
Sweeps above me all night long;
Up the skies, over the skies
Passes the uncounted throng,
Without haste, without rest,
From the east to the west:
Vega, Deneb, white Altair
Shine like crystals in the air,
and the lonely Fomalhaut
In the dark south, paces low.
Now the timid Pleiades
Leave the shelter of the trees,
While toward the north, mounting high,
Gold Capella, like a queen,
Watches over her demesne
Stretching toward the kingly one,
Dusky, dark Aldebaran.
Betelgeuse and Rigel burn
In their wide wheel, slow to turn,
And in the sharp November frost
Bright Sirius, with his blue light
Completes the loveliness of night.
Head over to Kelly's at Big A little a for the day's Poetry Friday round-up, not to mention the Cat Edition of PF. Thanks, Kelly!