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.
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,
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
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.
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.”