An Ode to Orbs - Lisa Owens Viani

[Larry Robinson]

An Ode to Orbs

I write in praise of the moon
and its circular craters,
of the glowing globe of
a pearl, luminescent,
made by an oval
oyster in green seas,
of Saturn, spinning in orbit,
annulated, an owl’s wide open eyes
facing forward, aglow like opals,
of an apple, the original pomme,
the orange globes of persimmons
waiting to be found by the bright black
eyes (orbs) of a robin.

Of the orbicular
faces of clocks
marking the round hours,
in the old department store,
on our wrists or street corner,
of the moon and sun
counting the round months,
of our eyes in their own orbits:
“Your irises are ringed by a string
of pearls of another color,”
observed an ophthalmologist,
who specializes in spheres.
“You have such beautiful eyes,”
said a doctor to my mother as she died.
Our windows to the world, the soul, each other.

	- Lisa Owens Viani