indifferent

black sky
a billion stars
and the great golden eye
of Mars above the trees

binoculars take you
up and out, too far
to see the constellations
and Mars jiggles in my hand

quiet black,
stars crackling
the night is still
too cold to linger
paltry humankind
to frail to be out there

in the wild lands
under black skies
and crackling stars
golden Mars would watch you die

One Year Round The Sun
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