Star Light, Star Bright

Often, when I wake up in the wee hours of the morning and the sky is clear, I'm comforted by the familiar sight of Orion hovering above the western horizon. I know he has something of a bad boy reputation, but I consider him a friend, a confidant. From where I lie, clinging to the last few calm moments of the day, it seems as though he's leaping off the eaves of our roof into the vast black pool of the Pacific Ocean, just beyond the hills of West Marin. Sometimes, I want to go too.

I wonder what he's doing: Is he paying his dad an early morning visit? Is he weary from his constant journey? Is he having any fun? What would Orion say about Intelligent Design? James says I think too much and he's probably right, especially here, in the quiet, in the dark. I savor this complicity with the stars, though, and I know that when the sun cracks the day wide open, I won't have any time to think at all. I'll save the rest of my questions for another night, after Orion's had time to hunt for some answers...