Brunch, Spaceship Side
Kathleen A. Lawrence
Bounding across the rocky terrain
with low gravity weight on Aster
it was an exhilarating jaunt out
for breakfast morsels hidden
behind griege craters and dunes.
Silver space boots with lights,
and puffy suit were de rigueur
under Saturn’s cloud-shrouded
Rose sky this Springtime morning,
thought the shuttle hunter.
Apricots and tangerines with mint,
paddle waffles and maple syrup,
were exchanged for brunch
staples like dessert air plants
and fresh eggs from lunar-birds.
Shadowed by the dappled light
of the Milky Way we gathered
to toast with dried peach mimosas
stored in our ship’s galley below,
our safe, albeit shaky arrival.
Like a platinum kite I soared across
the sand scape of taupe, caramel
and coffee terrain only touching
my trailing connector bungie
here and there, hopscotch style.
Only when my hasty scavenging
for nitrogen-rich pine fiddleheads
was interrupted by a loud crash
did I realize, we were not alone
grazing under this pale blush sky.
Standing only as tall as my hipbone
was a child with cinnamon colored
hair in a crown of loganberries
holding a brass box, a wand made
of woven reeds, and teal leather book.
He gestured with his fair hand
directing visitors like treasured guests
to join him at his silk draped table
alive with strange rose blossoms
in blueberry swirl the size of his head.
This young princely figure raised
a glistening ruby drinking vessel
as if to toast a welcome to new friends
before suddenly turning circles
in his velvet cloak and lifting skyward.
As quickly as he had arrived
he was gone with sparkle and wind
leaving his gracious hospitality
and a trail of dust-like magenta petals,
twinkling with the speed of a shooting star.
