Monday, March 21, 2016



There you rise yet,
My dear old friend Orion,
Huntsman of the winter sky,
Coursing now from east to south at twilight,

With your bow-hand high,
With robes girt up
Into star-silvered girdle;
You turn upon your half-bent knee.

Was it your form
Which Praxiteles saw
In winter skies of golden years,
And set his chisel to the task?

Was it your grace
He gave Olympian Hermes
And Apollo, still renowned
In legend and Athenian marble?

Legends slumber, marble wastes;
Yet still I see you, dear Orion,
In other age, and in another world;
Between the mountains of the sun

You live at twilight,
Still glorious and young,
Unwearied and unchanging,
In purple skies above the moon.


  1. Amy, I really enjoyed this poem. Orion was the first constellation I learned to recognize--almost 50 years ago, when I was discovering the wonders of the out-of-doors and nature. He is indeed a "dear old friend" and "still glorious and young"--reminding me to hold on to the enthusiasm and excitement of youth ... in spite of the years! thanks :-)

    1. Thank you so much for your wonderful comment, Hollis! I have spent only a little time online this week so missed it until now - so sorry! Orion was my first constellation as well, and he still carries much of the excitement of that first discovery of a picture in the night sky :)