Betelgeuse and Bellatrix by spectre_chasm A waning crescent, last of the hunter’s moon, darkens to the west where Orion in the dawning will follow. Fire, more needful now than in summer--a blessing, no mere accessory, our blankets, grown thin from years of use, are lacking. Dinner, its tag ends near embers, though still desirous to the dog, a brown brindled thing, in the shadows sleeping. Your touch, old now from arthritis and children, warming my bones and flesh, soon left behind so others, like Orion, may follow. Added to GotPoetry.com ( http://www.gotpoetry.com ) on 13-Nov-2008