Already, I’ve almost forgotten rain;
I know I will never know that again.
I move forward with the powers you gave me
to live up to my name, Curiosity.
This is a land without leaves, fronds, or spines.
If there are plants, they are small and supine,
dust hidden, like light here, filtered and sand
softened, at home in the thin air, thousands
of motes so small they seem to be fluid,
more fog than firmament. Shadows, few and
far from here, I know I must go to them
to see if they hold order or mayhem
or just another common rock or two.
If a machine can miss the Earth, I do.
