as i walk back from the train station towards home, i cross a football field. Often its late in the night, the stars are out, a few folks are running or walking on the track. I take off my footwear, hold it in my hand or put them in my bag and walk barefoot on the field. As I walk, I gaze up at the sky and watch the stars burn, and often my favorite poem comes back to me, 'how should we like it were the stars to burn, with a passion for us, we couldn't return?....if equal affection is not to be, let the more loving one be me ". I stand and stare at all the stars, the big ones, the small ones, the ones that glitter and the ones that don't. The ones that form a shape and the ones that stand alone. But mostly, my eyes seek one set of them. I begin by identifying three of them in a row and slowly it begins to take shape. Orion, the hunter. I often look at it and smile, or cry, whichever way my heart is tugging that particular moment. But its one of the few mom