As I drove up the winding road to my home observatory, I idly mused upon the socioeconomic impact of cosmology as I contemplated the low fog. Would it rise, or not?. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 19 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 99 in Hydra. It appeared in the eyepiece like cotton candy. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I observed Abell 84. It glowed, rather like a smoke ring. Next, I hunted for IC 2133. It looked like two scoops of spumoni ice cream. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I glimpsed IC 1189 in Virgo. It seemed most like R2-D2. After that, I checked off IC 105 in Cygnus. It was a dead ringer for fleecy wool.
After a short break to have a smoke, I star-hopped to B 647. It glowed, rather like the face of God.
After a short break to chat, I stumbled upon Abell 83. It reminded me of the eye of God. Next, I studied NGC 1770 in Hydra. It seemed just like R2-D2. Next, I located Abell 88 in Ursa Minor. It appeared at low power like diamonds on black velvet. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I nudged my telescope to B 386. It glowed, rather like fleecy wool. Next, I looked for and suspected IC 1830. It would be easy to confuse with Demi Moore. Then, I accidentally located Abell 97 in Camelopardalis. It somewhat resembled a dodo bird, extinct but for this celestial likeness. Then, for a real challenge, I added to my logbook B 163 in Ursa Minor. It was a dead ringer for a faint puff of nothingness, with a suspected, but not confirmed, central star.
Finally, it was time to pack up and leave. As I drove home, I contemplated the events of the night, and realized that any night out under the sky with good friends is better than a poetry reading marathon.