a prayer to the outer Jovian planets
thank you for my life.
thank you for your gravity.
thank you for destroying the dinosaurs
with a comet
all of those years ago,
for being invisible,
so that i can properly pray to you.
i imagine myself
late at night
to be your maker,
the brain and flesh that
pieced you into the interstellar tapestry,
placed you like clockwork,
calibrated the tilting
off-kilter poles. the enigmatic clouds
you wear around are the belches
and flatulence of my dreams, you are
a cosmic comic, i chuckle with you
through the eons and spin madly.
we are, all of us, spinning.
but you know that. you are
blue in the face with it.
thank you for watching
as i crept out of a tidepool,
and for the ceremonious wave
you offered when we flew past you,
solar wind pulling our mechanical sails taut.
today the sun is bright,
the sky sacred blue
and you know so much about color
and heliopause and thank you
for reminding me that when i think i am cold
i am not at all.
last line = perfect.