The Big Nice Dipper

Mighty nice Dipper you have there, Polaris.
His feet sit atop the fine clouds,
His head, way up
In the heart of some lucky galaxy
Where even the moons are called stars.
And look at him!
Pouring out
Milky Way Magic
And stardust
On lovestruck moths,
That flutter like punch drunk sailors
In oversized painting smocks.

And will they go all Fred Astaire
And dance in the pouring down rain?
And glitter like diamond cufflinks
At the sight of him again?

(God, I hope so....)

But I am not jealous of you, Polaris,
And though my feet touch the ground,
My head is way up
In the midst of fine clouds.

And when I tiptoe,
I can reach
The tips of the Dipper's winsome feet,
And I can kiss them
With my mouth,
And worship til the north turns south,
And both our cups have poured plumb out,
And the Pleiades finally sigh.

-jenn long