Seventh Heaven

I wrote this poem a year ago. It speaks for itself and all the wonders of a nighttime sky in the north woods.



Seventh Heaven


In wildwood clearings I linger
on the dock of midnight,
circle under the marvel of stars.
The summer sky shifts

the view I witness in winter
when Ursa Major rides low
but tonight somersaults higher
in the heavens of July.

And from his father's arms
Ursa Minor, tossed upwards
like a laughing child,
dangles the North Star on a string.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor