Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven!

-- That's not a star. I think that is a plane.--

Not a wishing star? I'll name it Seven

Satellites instead, spinning round again!

 

The reddening moon is such a sight to see

Among the dead and friendly stones of old

We lie and dream, my two sweet friends and me,

of myths and lore, new legends to be told.

 

It's cold outside, but we're together here

The dead, and us, and glistening, brilliant sky -

We write new tales for this new moon, so near,

And send aloft our stories up on high. 

 

A new astronomy we made that night

of a heaven so near, that shone so bright.

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