Walking out under the beclouded heaventree
of electrified city lights near Christmas,
I looked and found I could, just barely,
still make out the belt of Orion.
At once, I felt like some premier modern astronomer—
solitary, vigilant; attentive, self-contained.
Which is to say, actually much more like an ancient
maritime explorer—marooned; without the support of a crew.
Which is to say, still another way—utterly
impotent. And doomed.