March Morning

Faint dawn over there, east. 

Here, south, it’s rising wind

and wings and wings of geese.

Oh! And that’s Saturn, and 

there’s Mars, and 

then Antares, and 

then Jupiter, and 

then Spica, and

oh, Luna! How I hate to see you fading,

slipping away to the west, you

and your heavenly strand of pearls!