The Transit of Venus   I tried so hard to see it, silhouetted against the sun — the transit of Venus. My final chance! And the sun was settling into the hushed foothills of the Green Mountains, and I knew she was there, and I was ready this time — Venus by the light of day! I held my little lens to the sky. Like most men, I’d seen her only at night and she lied to me, of course, and I let her lie, of course — maybe I wanted her illusions, her promises, her not-quite-yet- but-soon . . . and so I told myself: that blur in the lens, it’s her — give me just a few moments. I told myself: she looks like you.                                                    for Marti     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont June 2012