Just standing in the handle of the dipper.
Drinking stars from inside her silver slipper.
The cup is buoyed up in ancient liquid light.
And Ursula tags a string upon her kindly kite.
Arcturus has flung the dipper far and high.
It rides the flow and surfs the starry sky.
The giant orange that spies the buxom bear.
Our secrets safe and kept as treasure there.
Upright to Milky Way it rips the canopy to scars.
And quickly moves against a slice of slippery stars.
Red glint that is polar to the stoic starry stream.
A visitor that flies within a deft diminutive dream.
Then in a blink or in a million years from now.
The red rust will break from our starry burnished bough.
A star no longer seen to ride a season by Ursula's urge.
Nor extend its dipper's handle in a splendid splurge.
A giant red that wore the bootes of heardsman all it's life.
And followed close to make the North Star a wondrous wife.
No Icarus to fly and melt in drawing hot while narrowing near
It's but a dying star yet keeps melodic magic sung in echoes ear.
by Edlynn Nau
Copyright © Edlynn Nau | Year Posted 2015