Saturn

Saturn has always held a strange kind of romanticism to me.

She slips along an imaginary line through space,

From one endless ending to another.

She moves with the purpose and force of a thousand locomotives.

With every intent bent upon the next corner in her orbit,

Floating on the edge of forgotten,

Gargantuan in scale but far from massive.

Be she part of a big bounce,

Or part of one image brought to fruition by one’s will and want,

She is,

And she will forever be,

My personal goddess of Hula-Hoops.