The Great Race*
cyclists race around
the green moon
Earth looms vacantly
the field holds in
air and warmth
riders soar above
the world
grove of apple trees
amber waves
out Imbrium way
on and on they ride
beneath
lich of their
ancestral home
strange vermin creep
there
ash blankets
Amazonia
blessed starscape on
the dark side
endless vibrant
night
dwellings cluster
thickly here
life forgets the
horror past
hairpins scale
knife-edged
mountain peaks
now mossed and
gentled
leap cautiously now,
for fair
Inertia
holds sway below
this, the greatest
race
on Sol’s green
gem, our only home
end of poem
*A lunegay
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