I wrote this sonnet for a contest on A Prairie Home Companion.  It was not selected.

The needle pivoted to beckon north
so north I trek by fortune’s spectral hand,
but backed by rote momentum bumble forth
between your beacon charm and charted land.

With gospel radiance the hemisphere
encompasses the night’s sincerest dark,
aligns the wayward ‘cross the bleak frontier
and pilots vagabonds who blind embark

on courses guided by device alone.
You cast your gravity to astral winds
and steal a traction from the vast unknown
from which your solar majesty transcends.

Shielded from your polar scope I settle
Lost inert in fields of firmer mettle.

I believe I entitled it aurora.

Games shouldn’t be fun, they should be engaging.