in praise of mystery: a poem for europa
arching under the night sky inky
with black expansiveness, we point
to the planets we know, we
pin quick wishes on stars. from earth,
we read the sky as if it is an unerring book
of the universe, expert and evident.
still, there are mysteries below our sky:
the whale song, the songbird singing
it's call in the bough of a wind-shaken tree.
we are creatures of constant awe,
curious at beauty, at leaf and blossom,
at grief and pleasure, sun and shadow.
and it is not darkness that unites us,
not the cold distance of space, but
the offering of water, each drop of rain,
each rivulet, each pulse, each vein.
o second moon, we too, are made
of water, of vast and beckoning seas.
we, too, are made of wonders, of great
and ordinary loves, of small invisible worlds,
of a need to call out through the dark.
by ada limon (u.s. poet laureate, born 1976)
for nasa's europa clipper set to explore jupiter's moon (read about the launch here).
----
greg and i went for a walk in the afternoon as he wanted to vote (i decided to wait and vote with korrina on tuesday). we walked back through the park across from the voting site. the gingko, maple, oak, and locust bean trees are at their peak in fall color, i think.
we passed this entourage . . i liked how the skeleton person was walking their skeleton dog . .
we ran into kendall and aurélien on their way to vote also.
we had a delicious dinner tonight of salad, sautéed kale with onions and porgie fillets (breaded).
