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Riding The Shoulder of Orion


Orion is slinging his leg over the horizon about the time I step out to walk the dogs. He is huge, leaning next to the horizon.

Last spring, he left like the loner riding into the sunset. He became swollen like a sun running out of fuel. I missed our evenings, though sometimes I’d catch his eye before dawn.

I rode those shoulders once last winter, but only let him lift me as high as an aerial photo. As he stood up, the farm receded. Night barked when I dropped his leash.

Orion’s shoulders burned under my thighs. Frightened by that naked height, I screamed. Even though he is a hunter, even though his belt is buckled and stern, he gently set my feet down. There just might be something to the idea the universe longs to help us.

I am no longer startled by him standing in front of our porch, his hand reaching down, to lift me to his shoulders.

I know ... this sounds imaginary, crazy; but the world is so full of wonder, it might do us all good if we reached for Orion’s hand, or took a sip from the Big Dipper or even just touched a tree gone quiet for winter, and let them lift us, into terror maybe, into a new perspective, into joy.

I’m Katie Andraski, and this is my perspective.

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