Page 44 - WTP VOl. X #4

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Perseverance
In the foreground, a patch of clay is home. There’s a low, anyhow mound and beyond, Though yards too far, is second base—
Jezero Crater trying hard to be a diamond.
No post-game beers or Dairy Queen—no game. Mars, after all: unbreathable air, frigid temps And scant gravity, a fly ball would fly forever. The God Himself has gone, and war, Martians, Canals are explained away by telescopes, Probes and rovers, Percy’s accurate eye. Mission control strives always to make a place. Imagine the wind up, a first insisting pitch.
John J. ronan