That's a delightful poem, Fliss. It's not exactly about planets, though, is it? But, yes, Earth is a planet which is mind-bogglingly diverse in its life forms, both plants and animals (and microbes, etc.).
Here is a poem about a solar eclipse and one about a non-stargazing dog.
Sol Concealed
“How dare you block my blaze,” Sun said to Moon,
“it’s disrespectful.” Moon ignored his whining,
continuing to move before his shining
indignant visage. The sunny afternoon
was swiftly growing moonless, and the stars
popped up across the sky with Saturn, Mars,
beige Jupiter, white Venus (a dazzling dot)
and even Mercury (infrequent guest)
along with the Great Canine in the west
(witnessed in the winter, not on hot
dog-day afternoons). Now Sun was seething
while we eyewitnesses were barely breathing.
The wind grew cold, birds took a power nap,
the crickets started quavering, and we
stood round, gaping and goggling in Tennessee,
pondering this otherworldly gap,
this discontinuation of the light.
Feeling effaced, Sun burned for a fiery fight.
What happened next was truly epoch-making.
Ceasing her mischief, by minute degrees
Moon slunk away. The world’s hostilities
ended at once. No longer bellyaching,
Sun shone again in all his awesome glory,
forgetting that all things are transitory.
Note: Originally in S4, Moon was “its” and Sun was “its.”
But in S1, Sun was “he” (which he still is). I'm not quite sure about the pronouns — its vs. him/her. Which one is better? Should I be PC about it? Is that a silly question?
The sun and the moon: A gender change
http://thelangwitch.com/en/geen-cate...-gender-change
The Stargazer’s Dog
As I stare at the moon, the stars,
Orion, Saturn, Venus, Mars,
or Jupiter, my furry cur
peers straight ahead for things that stir
between those weeds, behind that tree,
where moonlight helps his eyes to see.
As I gaze at the lunar face,
that mutt of mine sees much to chase.
“Look at the moon. Look up! Look up!”
I tell my little, furry pup.
His ears perk up, his eyes fixate
on some small creature near the gate.
My finger points straight toward the moon,
but he lives to a different tune—
a tune not astronomical,
but simply gastronomical.
His stomach’s what inspires that
canine to chase and tree a cat.
He’s earthly, not celestial.
He lives to tunes digestial.
Astronomy is not his bag;
that dog would rather stalk a stag.
But were the moon to dash away
I bet he’d leap and catch his “prey.”
Of course my earthbound dog can’t do it,
but if he could, he’d surely chew it.
Swiss cheese is that pup’s favorite snack.
But when he’s full would he come back?
After he takes a bite from it,
who knows, that dog might go and sit
down on the rim of some great crater.
Look at earth. Say, “See you later!”
He would come back eventually
cause I think he’d start missing me.
But then again, perhaps he might
just stay up there night after night
and live on all that tasty cheese
despite my shouts and screams and pleas.
But if he does come back to me
will there be any moon to see?
I doubt it, for he’d eat it all—
the total shining cratered ball.
So where a moon once was will then
be twinkling stars—far more than ten.
Hybrid Mode
