my favorite star is very far
little blue white, white blue dwarfie
behind a bunch of star clouds at
the back of the closet
the youngest to grow up in the serious universe
it hides behind a whole lotta tinsel
God hasn't even begun to use up yet
it likes it back there by the fairy lights
the clay bright models of the first nebulae
God likes it there
it's His favorite star too
He watches it do crooked cartwheels
my star, He calls out fondly
in several slightly gilded rose dust languages
I'll never transcribe:
the last one to hit the bricks.
meteorily speaking.
then it twinkles more
my star, in my Sunday best appearing
and sends out rogue tiny beams
faintly through the trees
mixing with the fireflies
of a forest Im not quite sure of
the scientists will never find it
nor the amateurs sleuthing.
on cold nights when the air is most clear
and everyone and their cat is out in the backyard
of the world with their telescopes trained on the
soon to be milky sky
now biding its snows
it hides in God's supersugarplum pocket.
waiting for Christmas to come
and with a wish to be lilac
and warbling.
mary angela douglas 11 november 2022;11 february 2023
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