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OT: The Because Science Thread (Now With Aliens!)

Tbf, they  all do look like some of the edible "entertainments" we consumed when I was living in San Diego. 😁
 
I lean coyote, probably bc I spent time around a bunch of them way out in the country and foothills, but I do love the wolf, too. ❤️


View: https://youtu.be/jZsx_cMzWbk?si=Q_-h3JAPOfZf9u4i

 
I'm so very grateful for artists, writers, poets, scientists, mathematicians, and others who teach and inform us. One poet I especially appreciate: Sonoma gal Ada Limon. One of her poems is on its way to Europa flybys. 😊

Ada_Limón_in_2024_(cropped).jpg
Ada Limón

Limón was appointed 24th Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry by Librarian of Congress Carla Hayden in 2022 and reappointed for a second, two-year term in 2023.[15]

As part of her laureateship, she wrote an original poem, “In Praise of Mystery: A Poem for Europa,” dedicated to NASA's Europa Clipper mission, which debuted on June 1, 2023.[16] The poem is engraved in her own handwriting on a metal plate affixed to the Europa Clipper spacecraft. The Europa Clipper launched on October 14, 2024, and is expected to arrive in the Jupiter system in 2030, where it will perform flybys of Jupiter's Galilean moon, Europa.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ada_Limón


In Praise of Mystery: A Poem for Europa


Arching under the night sky inky
with black expansiveness, we point
to the planets we know, we

pin quick wishes on stars. From earth,
we read the sky as if it is an unerring book
of the universe, expert and evident.

Still, there are mysteries below our sky:
the whale song, the songbird singing
its call in the bough of a wind-shaken tree.

We are creatures of constant awe,
curious at beauty, at leaf and blossom,
at grief and pleasure, sun and shadow.

And it is not darkness that unites us,
not the cold distance of space, but
the offering of water, each drop of rain,

each rivulet, each pulse, each vein.
O second moon, we, too, are made
of water, of vast and beckoning seas.

We, too, are made of wonders, of great
and ordinary loves, of small invisible worlds,
of a need to call out through the dark.
 
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