30 Orbits Later

What’s this that I see,

Or that sound that I hear,

And the feeling I can’t grasp,

Questions I may have asked,

Communicating without language.

?

One day till Sunday I count,

Primary to higher I climb,

Subtly losing the grasp of time,

As black grasses grow tall on my chin,

And my wrinkled skin retells stories.

?

Surprise!

The orbiting Earth has reached its 30th,

Closing in on that final chapter,

Whispering to make the most of it,

While it all lasts.