Driving in the summer dark,
I hear the music of the spheres.
It is the radio and the rush
of moving lights
and passing cars at night.
We are the little bits of a swirling cosmos:
every one of us a satellite
tracing and retracing orbits,
connecting the dots of constellations.
Something of that
is captured in the glowing gauges of every dashboard,
and I wonder how it affects the private thoughts
of other part-time astronauts.