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Orion is at my front door - Salvador Dali in a lawn chair.
I'm invisible without 3D glasses.
Orion is at my front door
I have a visitor every night. The way our house is situated, Orion hangs low in the sky, sitting right outside my front door. I've begun to leave the front door open, keeping only the clear storm door to shield the cold. I often walk by and stop to let Orion fill my vision; his strength and grandness hold stoic in the cold, empty sky, and I sit with my knees crossed on the welcome mat of my door to watch him hunt. Often, while he skins a stag corpse or fletches his giant, jagged arrows, he graces me with a lingering smile, eyes on his little hunter. Then I don't worry about disappointing him, just about the sweat of my own hunt, a horse between my knees, taut reins to lead along the trail, and the warm camp up the next hill ahead where he waits with the smell of bedroll pelts thick in the nose and a hearty fire.
Lift Your Voice Aloft