Orion’s Playground

Orion’s Playground

I’m driving East after early February dusk,
  Frost wrote Orion looks a neighbor climbing over your fence,
Hands and one leg grappling over to vault the high rail,
  And so he does,
As Orion hops down into our roadside towns,
  I imagine his dog barking for being left behind
By this Childish Colossus of stars running amok, mischief night,
  Through the dark frigid neighborhoods,
Leaving no footprints, but making dogs bark
  “Woof woof woof”
Irritating homeowners,
  “Bad Dog, quiet down!”

Midnight, and my route’s turned South,
  Where the rascal is at it again, playing high in the sky,
Acting more the shoeless country kid
  Than the ancient hunter of lore,
Forever throwing a ball for his dog,
Who is forever, leaping in the overlap
  Of anticipation and retrieval

Early before dawn and further far,
  So further far from home,
My route now leads me west,
  Towards where the cosmos settle down,
There young Orion lies in bed on his stomach,
  His faithful dog curled and guarding sleep at his feet,
As I step into a place that serves only eggs and bacon,
  Just for a moment smell ‘um,    hmmnnfff-ha,
The thought of coffee makes me nervous
  When tired I’d ought to be in bed,
  So I have my breakfast for dinner

And when I come out,
  Orion’s playground has turned blue