Marineris

 

When explorers and adventurers die

Their restless spirits fly to Marineris.

No other place on Earth or any other world

Could hope to satisfy their wanderlust

Or thirst for beauty.

John Muir’s ghost is there, hiking the high ridges,

Gazing adoringly at the colours of the raw rock

And stone with Ansell Adams – still groaning

Under the weight of cameras and plates –

Following close behind. So I won’t be surprised if,

When they return, the first astronauts to explore

Its canyons and chasms will swear they saw shadows rippling

Across the walls of rock and felt a thousand eyes

On their backs as they tracked

Across its floor, will insist they heard voices

Carried on the martian wind as they stared

At the long strip of sky above them…

 

© Stuart Atkinson 2018

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s