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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Photo by </span><a href="https://unsplash.com/@tiago?utm_source=ghost&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=api-credit"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Tiago Muraro</span></a><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> / </span><a href="https://unsplash.com/?utm_source=ghost&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=api-credit"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Unsplash</span></a>

Scorpius on the Horizon

by Lynn Packham Larson

Standing sentinel in the shallows across the cove, 
the great blue heron
eyed us discreetly 
as the motor grumbled 
and we drifted away from the dock
moving into the main channel.

The heat of the cloudless day 
softened as we floated over the lake,
exploring bluffs and other coves. 

Later, we arranged our chairs for the view from the dock.
The last reflections of the setting sun lighting up the water 
and the sky growing pale, 
then colorless, until it became a barely visible blank canvas.

We sipped champagne and watched,
commenting on the first hint of a planet, 
guessing at what we were seeing.  
Stars and more stars, shooting stars made us call out and point, 
so grateful to have seen them.  

Gradually we began to discern a shape that must be a constellation.  
Scorpius looked to have just risen from the lake, 
fully formed, enormous,
Climbing its way up the canvas of sky.