Alnitak, Alnilam, Mintaka
I walk the kid across the park at night from music school, from Christmas concert practice, and watch for winter stars. I see the three magi through the trees pointing to Sirius. It's dark and cold, and she keeps up, backpacked and chattering, with news of a first kiss: a boy, a chase, a slip behind a tree, a pretended whisper. Twelve hundred years, I fall back.