by Chris Dungey
It was too soon for that,
my granddaughter just two-
and-a-half and too early
in the evening for Orion,
or either Dipper. We made
a fire in the chiminea
anyway.
*
But this was the summer
of Mars’s orbit passing
close, or we passing Mars,
however that works.
An easy name to learn though,
Mars. And those are bats
or sparks swooping,
not birds or stars.
***
Chris Dungey is a retired auto worker in Michigan. He rides a mountain bike and a Honda scooter for the planet, follows Detroit City FC with religious passion. More than 160 of his poems have been published in litmags and online. His work appeared most recently in Last Leaves, 12 Mile Review, and Brown Bag Online.
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