Sunday, September 11, 2016

poem from a previous millennium

Neptune's Journey

It was a cold November,
Neptune was rising, dwarfing the pock-marked Moon.
The ships rode high in the water, vaster than Leviathan of legend,
shining eggs strung with millions of lights.
Grounded in the seabed forever it had seemed,
but I knew these birds would fly.

It's a long way here from Neptune's cold familiar orbit
A journey most planets don't make once.

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