Constellations are known to tell marvelous tales and depict courageous heroes of Greek and Roman mythology, but one among their ranks is just a lowly triangle.  This arrangement of stars is known as Triangulum, Latin for 'the triangle'.  It was one of the forty-eight that the muggle astronomer Ptomley, from Greece, cataloged, but it is only the seventy-eighth in size.  Even though it is so small, it holds one of the most well-known galaxies in its borders, the Triangulum Galaxy, Messier 33; this galaxy is the third largest in its local group and has the black hole M33 X-7 at its center.  In fact, there are nine complete galaxies in this one small constellation.  I find myself favoring it because of this and for its obvious oddity among strange beasts and gods.

In Ancient Greece, most who knew of it knew it as Deltoton  This being, of course, since it resembles the Greek letter 'Delta'; however, there were a variety of views on its symbolism.  Eratosthenes, a scholar, claimed it represented the river Nile, and the author Hyginus wrote that some believed it to impersonate the island Sicily. There was no fantastical tale, but if it were to have had a story, it may have gone as follows.

Once a young scholar lived on a cliff at the salty shore, and each day he would stare into the swirling abyss below his bedroom window.  Each night his grandfather, who was really a bird, would leave him alone and walk along the cliff's edge and let his heart ache for his long-lost home.  As a young fledgling, he would fly low at this very cliff and stare down at his love; he was a beautiful poet who would sit and write of his woe in life.  One day as he stared down and realized the joys of his own as a bird and knew how sad his beloved was, he wished to change places with him, so that he might be happy.  Somehow, someway, his wish came true; however, they could still never be together, so he found contentment with a kind wife and children.  They grew old and the wife died, and the children grew up and had children of their own.  

Now that his grandson is learning to write and all the other lovely things of a scholar, he has been aching more than ever with the memory of the poet.  The young boy asked him once at breakfast as they went over the letter delta, "Oh papa, I see you walk at the edge every night.  What if you fall?"  The old man smiled, "My boy, what if I fly?"  The boy left it at that, but delved into the old diaries of his grandfather, though he knew it was wrong.  Through these, he found the truth and ached for the poor old man.  He wished and wished for him to become a bird once more and find his beloved.  Somehow, someway, his wish came true.  That night he went to stare out his bedroom window, and instead of looking down, he looked to the stars.  There, in the sky, was his favorite letter, the delta, written in stardust by his grateful grandfather and his beloved poet.