As Saturn Climbs the Sky

The fire has been tended, logs turned over, around 
a river running through hours. Dirt under fingernails
we watch crayons melt 
summer blue to dark indigo then navy, 
branches fade from texture to shadow.
 
We wait for Saturn. 
 
I know the planet and its ring will not 
cross our horizon until long after her bedtime. 
But she dances like a deer. I do not have the heart 
to tell her what she will not see.
 
When the temperature drops, she tires into a fern, 
curls into a fiddlehead. She tucks her nose 
into the crease of my shoulder, finds sleep, 
satisfied with the wanting.