Stars as Cultivars

Without us, what are they
To you? Mere points of light.
Diurnal animals,

Close to the equator,
Your ancestors slept through
Most of their beauties, most

Nights, wordlessly hearthless,
Nesting in the dense leaves.
But, ah, significance,

Indication, pointing,
Referencing, explaining,
Meaning, meaning, meaning—

Once the bipeds had means
To make us, thoughts steaming
And smoking from their mouths,

Suddenly, they saw them,
Coals in the hearth of night
To scrape and cultivate.