Prowling Heaven’s Alleyways

Comet Lulin, November 20, 2009  ~ Photograph, Paolo Candy

 

When the Texas Flash Dude provided an update on the travels of Comet Neowise through our skies, my first thought was, “Can I see it?” Theoretically, the answer was ‘yes.” Unfortunately, viewing conditions in my part of the world haven’t been the best, but, with luck and borrowed high-powered binoculars, I hope to find it later this month.

In the meantime, I’ve been thinking about the last comet I watched: Lulin, a colorful beauty which appeared in 2009. Visible to the naked eye, it drew me outdoors well past midnight to watch from my parking lot. I thought myself alone, until a stray cat I’d befriended came to check on me, and brought me a poem in the process. Cats and comets, it seems, have a few things in common.

 

Watching Lulin

Green-eyed,
aloof,
prowling heaven’s alleyways
with unexpected  grace,
you take your ease on Saturn’s stoop
then roam again in darkness:
an elegant, celestial stray hungry for attention.
Prone beneath your pathway,
curbstone-pillowed, concrete-bound,
I squint to see your tail —
limned in hand-drawn charts —
then trace your route through time
until I feel a tug
and hear the tiny, worried voice.
An earthbound stray has found her friend,
her source of food
and solace,
no longer rising tall against the sky but flattened to the ground,
eyes turned upward,
head inclined as though the victim of a fall.
Green eyes wide,
she nudges hard against my pillowed head,
pushing back dismissive hands.
Importunate,
insistent,
biting and tugging as though to pull me upright by my hair,
she seeks to right her realm
in a universe gone mad.
Leaving the comet to its flight,
I offer consolation to this nearer, living world.
“Look up,”  I murmur,
running fingers through the fur that sparks
and shines like starlight in her eyes.
“A thousand years are passing.
A thousand years have passed.”

 

Comments always are welcome.

Hummingbird Moth Encounters and Explorations

White-lined sphinx moth (Hyles lineata) enjoying a columbine patch

Accustomed to the sight of sphinx moths among her flowers, a friend never thought to point out the one flitting and sipping its way through the evening primroses that had slipped under the fence and into her garden. “Look!” I said.”A hummingbird!” Amused, she corrected my mistake. “It’s not a hummingbird, it’s a moth. People call them hummingbird moths, or hawk-moths, because of the way they hover. See if you can get a picture of it.” Continue reading