On landing – March 2026

A cold steel hull with a vespertine sheen
is enticed by high dreams and, payload full,
sets off in orbit to shine in the dark.
Departure stark. Stratosphere's open door.

Through the spiraling years his panels wince,
old batt'ries dim, cloudy belt spinning near
where ambitions of birds unknown below
fly circles slurping worms and grub
and waft beneath the astral gust
of milky roads who lead shadows to glow.

With ground, collided. Inevitable.
Earthen metal made whole in meteor's strike.
The liberty that but flight can extend:
collapsed, condemned, sunken rubble debris.

—

This planet nurtures its insects and beasts
who in dirt drag their feet — on rock, assured.
Even wings on the bird cry out fatigue
if eagle eyes the cloudy throne
forgets the branch he called his home
and sucks in vapour of cottonmouth breeze.