a mathematician measures the angle between the star
on the hillside to the viewers down below,
adjusting the drawing of the Bethlehem star
so the villagers will see a perfectly shaped star.
she passes the sketch to the workmen who
will pound stakes in the ground, forming an
asymmetric and distorted star on the hillside.
they will wonder at her, this woman in her office
with brown hair and freckles and grumble
at surely having to do the job over again.
every year I look up from my little house
in the village at the perfectly shaped star
and thank the woman with freckles who
adjusts the lights in the world to make
perfect beauty.
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