Augury

Today was minutes longer than yesterday,
the Earth turns slow, tipping back towards the Sun.
Stars fall at strange angles and get hung up in clouds,
filling the sky with unfamiliar constellations
as if God had shaken a jewelery case
and left the chains tangled, pendants hooked together
dangling askew across the sky.
Augur, read me this riddle:
what planet rules the fortunes of empires?
Does it rise or set, or move at all
or is it trapped, like a scarlet fish in a net
of static history? Horrible thought.
Shake the box again, God. Roll the stars like dice
and let us read the numbers plain.