The Christmas Comet

Tonight, the North Wind at my back and the
Horns of the young Moon in the western sky
Carried me off to another season; I don't know why--
Perhaps because the stars shine brightly on Winter nights.
Evening Star and Seven Sisters, riding high,
Reflect in my eye, and carry me back to Christmas--

On the streets of Seattle, 1973, with Mother and Father,
With the North Wind at my back, and a doomsayer's cry:
"Have you heard? The Great Comet is coming!"
Such was the missive apocalyptic, on a grimy tract,
Courtesy of David Berg and the Children of God.
(A tradition as old as Yuletide: I didn't know that, then.)

And so it was Christmas. With Doomsday near.
Yet I felt no fear at the Woolworth lunch counter, and later,
After Kohoutek rounded the sun, outbound to eternity,
With Spring at my door, I saw the Christmas Comet,
Through dusty, old surplus binoculars.
She was fragile and wraith-like, and
Beautiful beyond compare.

- Rod Brock, 12/03/08