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Atop Rib Mountain, The Stars

We linger, my tall son and I,

between two universes ...

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hair blowing around our faces.

City lights loop

along Wisconsin River bluffs

far below the huge slow slope;

stars chatter above where we stand.

My mind presses and collapses the void

into patterns: Cepheus, Cassiopeia, Cygnus -

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like neighborhoods below:

River Hills, Woodson, Pine Valley.

I recall the vastness of motherhood

faced at his age, twenty-one years ago;

learning to condense it into

constellations: feed, teach, love.

We've come a distance together;

mine, sweat-drenched. His,

a mere leap or two across

first steppingstones to an edge.

Tonight, dreamed galaxies spin out

ahead, singing courage.

His stars await.

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