Photogragh courtesy of NASA.


by Alfred D. Byrd

Sunlight is coming at last!
A week and a week of night,
With earthlight alone above,
Has shadowed the base.

We leave our tasks for a while
To greet the dawn with a dance,
A leaping of joy renewed
Upon the surface.

Checking with care the gauges
That measure our air, our life,
We don our suits of silver
And cross the airlock.

Alone, unable to touch,
Or hear except through speakers,
We bounce through dust that settles
As swiftly as lead.

The ridge ahead is hiding
The rays of the sun we seek,
And we race to gain the heights
And speed its rising.

It's here! The ridge below us
Becomes the a stage for viewing
The dawn in all its glory
Banishing darkness.

We leap, alone, together,
As high as the moon permits,
And some turn circles in space
To honor the sun.

The speakers carry our cries
Of joy, our songs of greeting,
Until, our air exhausted,
We head for the base.

Indoors, we'll uncork the wine
We've made from the grapes we've grown,
And sniff its bouquet, and sip
At most a mouthful.

Too much will dull our senses
And make us forget our tasks,
The lists and lists of duties
That keep us alive.

Although, above our tunnels,
The sun cannot cross their walls
To brighten a room or task,
We dance regardless.

Children conceived on the earth,
We recall its round of days
And keep the homeworld alive
Beneath the moondust.
Return to the main party!