Transit of Venus

It is not a matter of longitude,

Though, of course, to some

Degree, it always is.

Nor is it a matter of latitude,

Though . . . ditto.

A celestial dance like a

Pendulum swing has carried

You from dawn to dusk,

Low in the western sky

So bright and still I knew

You had returned to that

Spot where we met

Long ago when I, ignorant

Child with open eyes,

Christened you “God’s

Church light” and, I hope,

Made you, goddess, smile

At my innocent disrespect.

Summer is waning,

Yet you rise, defying fall,

Lighting winter, adamantine

In these mortal eyes.

8/23/2024