Eileen Berry

Planets Aligning on my birthday

We stand in the empty parking lot

at nightfall, away from the streetlights,

finagling for an unobstructed view

of the sky. Voices low as though praying,

we sift through supergiant stars with tiny

glowing screens held in our upraised hands,

heads tilted toward the black expanse

where seven spheres have hummed into their places,

a planetary procession in plain sight

this hour, this night, this year, this life.

Low on the horizon hovers Saturn

just beneath the rising moon—

present though invisible, being new—

and slightly higher, Mercury, then Neptune,

framed between two rooftops, penlight-sized.

Venus, evening star, is next in line,

a radiant eye, impossible to miss.

More steps up heaven’s span, Uranus shines,

then Jupiter, and at the pinnacle

we find pink phosphorescent Mars.

What Providence is this, aligning worlds,

ordaining paths that intersect in time,

planets in separate orbits sharing space

before our eyes, syncing one night

with our brief lives? Tonight we gaze

at galaxies so far above our heads

that eons pass, light rushing down the years,

before the moment that we see them—

we the seen ones, born beneath these stars.