When we first saw you,
We were eager kids, peering for shapes in clouds.
I stared with longing at the storming screen
And held your mother’s hand.
We knew you were waiting for us there –
… ‘as big as a finger’, we were told –
But all I could see were nebulae blooming in distant galaxies;
How far off you seemed.
And then, the middleman fixed his thread on you,
Called that beautiful arc your head,
That pulsing patch your heart,
And you began to appear,
Like some improbable constellation –
Two or three dim points of light,
Somehow a bear or scorpion –
That led old sea dogs safely home.
And there you were: a set of dancing stars to guide us through the night.

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And there your spine – like some ancient fossil – pointing us to a truth beyond our time

Blown too quickly for meaning to emerge/purchase