I watch Orion stalking down the sky
Whose names resound with awe:
Gibbor the giant, Al Babadur the strong,
Nimrod of Genesis (and from his belt
Dangling, the fiery nebula,
Twin to the glowing cloud that birthed the sun.)
Perhaps we're carried in some Hunter's pouch
Though not the prey he'd nock an arrow for,
Poor fledglings in a fluff of stars,
Above, the huge stride shuddering, below
What we call chaos, branching quickening
To swirl, seethe, eye meeting eye.