This morning, Mars is dignified by term and face, according to my friend C.T.; and it’s also in conjunction with Venus, which is in exaltation in the sign of Pisces.  This is a pretty good combination, in a lot of ways. While Mars is normally the Lesser Malefic, he gets along fairly well with Venus, and while dignified in this way, it’s a good time for poetry of an astrological bent:

Hail to you, divine lovers in your bed,
twining around each other under sheets:
Mars, the shining locks of your tousled head
suggest that you’ve done more than martial feats
in the hours since Venus called you near;
and Lady, on pillows languidly draped,
indulgent in bliss, in beauty shining:
you are the laughing queen whom all revere,
of luscious skin, adorably well-shaped;
before you, awe-struck and barely breathing,

we lower our gaze and avert our eye,
knowing your divine and matchless beauty
to mortal glamour, shows the mirror’s lie.
And you, muscle-bound Mars, fit for duty,
cabled with pure strength and well-armed with brawn,
recline and rest a while from your deeds —
for a warrior in languor is rare.
Tis not your watch; sleep cozy well past dawn,
nor take up arms, nor buckle on your greaves,
nor settle your helmet over your hair.

Great Mars and Venus, twined in union sweet,
beauty of Man, and Woman’s strength and grace,
may your lovers’ couch be your royal seat,
and hear my petitions with kindly face —
be most doting and liberal in your mood,
and forbearing in forgiving my slips
and welcoming, despite my intrusion.
In this time, may your good wishes exude
fragrance like roses and dragon’s blood pips,
and your bounty like wine in profusion.

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