Constellation in 100

Sometimes I wonder how they connect, those glistening jewels above, creating myth and legend in the night sky. Past from generations, word of mouth, we sit and stare. Each star a beacon, tracing back the years. How many pointed to the heavens, creating beauty with upswept fingers in the air? Whispered words in reverent tones, the stories around campfires told. Or lulled to the rhythm of a rocking boat, just how to navigate. Lost and found, warrior or lover, all search for the constellation they call their own. While remembering the North Star is always there to guide us home.

Ben in 100

Responsible, life affirming, love you to the moon and back. You eat your cereal in loud slurping smacks though I can’t name the color of your eyes. Shaggy haired dog, aw shucks kind of man and yet, you lawyer in, pushing, cajoling, somehow seeing the big picture without losing too many details. The closest you get to yard work is staring out the window. Later, always later, there is more paperwork to do. Then you give with all your heart, bleed out willingly though you are blind, a fool. There is more to see than your solitary point of view.