Playing Fair and Being Kind

Thirty-four years ago I bought this little house

In Maine under a cold sky on frozen ground in

Amongst white pines and unmown grass.

Inside this little house where I lie after the sun has gone beyond

Westport Island I can stare out the window,

My head turned on my cool pillow and my imperfect eyes

Straining to focus on the point of light in the north.

One white pine with only its pointing finger visible

Indicates the precise location of Polaris. So many miles

Away. Measured in light years. The star I am looking at

Existed three hundred and twenty years ago. I hope it’s

Still there. I have looked at it twelve thousand four hundred

And ten times. Each time I have trusted my eyes. Lying on

My back and head turned left on this cool pillow I have

Fully believed I was having a spiritual relationship with

The North Star which is really a group of about seven stars of

Various sizes bunched together in front and back and to the left and right

Of each other so they appear as one light from this great distance and

With imperfect eyes to boot. I have no problem with that. I just

Make up my mind that Polaris, or the North Star, is one bright son-of- a-gun

Huge sun hanging out directly over our north pole and I and billions of people

Through the ages have stared at it and wondered all sorts of things.

As a group, as a species, we have formed a very large club.

The North Star Fan Club.

My mind cycles between the fantasy and the learned reality of it.

I hope I can see the north star as I die and that my heart flies

Three hundred and twenty light years and lands smack, dab in the middle

Of all seven suns. What a treat that would be. I hope it happens.

G. M. Goodwin
October 19, 2020