God of Satellites

As of late the stage of our black firmament gained

New dancers twirling in circles.

At night we crane our necks and view 

that among the familiar white specks and slow wanderers there zoom

racing stars - bright satelittes.

At the edges of our world

Satelius sits in contemplation

Holding our tin cans in the inky black

with his exhalations,

So that women and men and instruments of science

May balance on thin beams of starlight.