182/365 The Stars Declare God's Glory

I just stare on past his face at Venus rising,
Like a shining speck of hope hanging over the horizon

For the first time since moving to the city in 1992, I see Venus. Venus is bright in the sky these evenings, and maybe I'm just not as exhausted at 9 p.m. as I've probably been for the past 5 years or so. I obviously have seen Venus in the past. But for the first time, I know I'm seeing Venus.

I have taken Mike's phone, with the application for tracking the night sky, and have found Mercury, Mars, and Saturn as well, although Mercury is hard to see here in the city. The other two, with Venus, I can pick out without any trouble these days.

I stand on my porch, coming in from a meeting or an errand, and glance into the western sky. Venus follows the sun. There it is, blue-green even through our light-polluted sky, setting slowing, following the sun. There it has been and there it will be long after I've stopped noticing it. In the moment as I look up and say to myself, "Venus," I have this inner silence, almost something nearing joy. I want to wave at Venus. I want to friend it on Facebook. I want Venus to know I'm seeing it and that I like seeing it and I want to see it again tomorrow night. I take breaths deeper than I'm able and I think about the vastness of space and how very cozy and small life is.

I think back to Mrs. Chott, my second grade teacher who introduced me to Edna St. Vincent Millay. I think about Afternoon on the Hill, the last stanza:

And when lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down!

I know now as an adult that Millay is looking at porch lights and kitchen lights and spying the warmth of home and heading there. But in second grade, I thought the lights showing up from town must be the stars. And the nice thing about seeing Venus from my front porch is that it can be mine. I mark it as so and therefore it is.

Every evening this summer has been a kind of happy prayer.

The stars declare God's glory;
the vault of heaven springs,
mute witness of the Master's hand
in all created things,
and through the silences of space
their soundless music sings.