July 5th. Nine p.m.
The Cape of Good Hope.
In the vicinity, bright Antares.
On the meridian, de Lacaille,
the carpenter's square --
strong, steady, dependable Norma.

Six thousand light years away,
in the glow of a pale sky,
an open cluster can be seen.
A cosmic rift, with
its dark, disjunctive dusk
cuts the horizon.

Offstage, a diva rehearses a part.
Maria Callas, bel canto --
Bellini's Druid Princess.
Lost love and betrayal, a tale
played out amidst the stars,
where sacrifice is common.

Up above, inside a small
and caliginous asterism that lies
over the Southern hemisphere,
a fourth magnitude twinkling hints
of a depth unplumbed by the naked eye.
To see, one must look further.