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birchif you want to see any stars here in civilization, you have to know exactly where to stand. light pollution turns most of the night sky into a gradient of dirty pink or bruised chartreuse, depending on which direction you’re facing.

but a while ago, i was walking home alone late enough that the houses had mostly gone to sleep, it had stopped snowing, and there was a warm yellow dome of light around every lamp post. i looked up into the darkness in between, and there he was, waiting.


so bright. strong and confident. a little brusque, but not unfriendly. hello, girl. lazily lounging, watching me as i was watching him. long minutes of comfortable silence – then he saw me safely to my front door.

(sometimes he is not orion, but osiris eternal. sometimes he is no one, and his gaudy belt is not a belt, but frigg’s spinning wheel instead. but not that night.)


(in other, fabulous, news, ziggy is sending me a letter, look!)