Region of Corona BorealisWhen I found you your star,
Alphecca to the Arabs, but Gemma,
always from then to you and me,
The Alpha Diamond of Corona,
shining in the Crown of the North on
those summer evenings. The back patio.
To smell fresh cut alfalfa hay, the peepers
and the Fireflies, when the screen
door creaked to say that you
were coming out to the tranquil dark,
sometimes to ask “Show me my star!”

When your sister gave us the gift,
four places of Silver and that note,
A charming tale you both exchanged,
As each family outgrew more settings
that neither could afford. Later I smiled.
But then, momentarily left the wedding party,
with her words “once your mother’s”, for
the empty, tranquil dark yard to bawl in,
Standing with the massive western sky,
First the handle’s Arc to Arcturus and then
upward to Hercules and Corona,
always to hear: “Show me my star!”

When I met your grand-daughter,
her first 15 minutes, eyes intently
scanning a populated new world.
You know she’ll never stop honoring
those, her unknown generations’,
unfilled yearnings to share their love.
But did my sister know when
choosing just a middle name,
it would close a celestial circle?
That on an urban summer evening,
the coals now cooling and
we guests well fed and yes,
the Fireflies have come back.
When my niece, catching my
glances upward towards Corona,
sometimes to ask: “Show me my star!”

The Alpha Diamond of Corona

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