stars

In July, the big dipper sits low on the horizon. Settled like it’s about to take a delicious scoop of the Earth. Only in July, warm-after-monsoon nights, does it sit like this.  I look right to find Polaris and then follow it’s faint line to spy the little dipper if the moon is soft enough. Quiet enough. If the night is dark enough. I like to lay back and stare up so I see nothing but sky. The stars begin to pop. Staring at the sky like this makes one feel disoriented. Sometimes though I think it orientates me. It’s healing. A reminder when things are tough, when sadness visits, when the world feels too big. How small it is, we are, I am. And I let the big dipper scoop me up in it’s joy.

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