Conjunctions
Solstices of years past
As I looked at photos
from years past,
two pictures
took me off-guard.
Both captured the Moon
and planets as they converged
on their eastward journeys.
In one, the Milky Way
spilled into a summer solstice
country night sky.
On the pitch black canvas,
lay gilded Jupiter
and bright silver Venus,
brushing Regulus
and juxtaposed against
the waxing crescent Moon.
In memory, a soft and scented wind,
through coastal firs and cedars
warmed by the summer day,
gifted my secluded forest home.
Years later,
another summer solstice sky
held a waxing crescent Moon,
but embraced by Venus alone.
This time,
at eventide,
and what would become
a dark,
but bleached,
city night sky.
Memories of sweet-scented breezes
through seaside woods,
were overwritten by exhaust
and man-made city sounds.
Natural to artificial.
Subtle to brusque.
Country to city,
the changes,
unsettling.
Falling behind.
Overtaking.
Retrograde motion.
Disappearing.
Reappearing.
From our geocentric point of view,
inferior and superior planets
travel in roller derby fashion.
Are their paths
better likened to autumn leaves
in high mountain streams?
These wanderers
are old friends.
We visit.
I say goodbye,
and begin
longing
for their return.
Photos from an older,
and a recent past.
Benchmarks,
measuring change.
Their coincidence,
both from summer solstice
night skies,
disquiets.
These persons of my past
no longer exist,
but I have not changed.
The constancy of the night sky
cradles and nurtures me.
So, I still look up.
© 2024 — Craig D. Lewis, All Rights Reserved
