Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face
Stars to fill my dreams
I am a traveler of both time and space
To be where I have been
To sit with elders of the gentle race
This world has seldom seen
They talk of days for which they sit and wait
When all will be revealed
Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace
Whose sounds caress my ear
But not a word I heard could I relate
Though the story was quite clear
Oh, pilot of the storm who leaves no trace
Like thoughts inside a dream
Heed the path that led me to that place
Yellow desert stream
My Shangri-La beneath the summer moon
I will return again
Sure as the dust that floats high in June
Moving through Kashmir
Oh, Father of the four winds
Fill my sails across the sea of years
With no provision but an open face
Along the straits of fear
The last glimpse I had of Venus as an evening star was looking past the roof of my house. [Neutral Zone Infraction?!]
Sunday morning I got up to check the dawn.
I have a terrible view of the east horizon here in the suburbs. Lots of ground clutter. I could see Jupiter in the southeast. But closer to where the Sun would break the horizon trees and houses block my view.
I was about to go inside when I glanced between the houses across the alley. There, alongside the garage across the alley, between two houses, in among three rows of trees was a very bright star.
I carried my telescope outside and looked right through all the clutter.
There was Venus, in among the tree branches, a beautiful, shimmering crescent in the dawn sky.
Venus had safely made the transition from evening object to morning object.
That’s probably the last bit of astronomy I’ll do from my suburban house. In a month or so I will have completed my re-location back to the north side and I’ll have the best view of the eastern horizon imaginable—the absolutely flat sky visible over Lake Michigan. (This is a great time to have a good eastern view—Jupiter leads Neptune, Uranus, Mars and Venus out of the dawn sky.)
I hope I make my transition as pleasantly as has Venus!