Mail Order
a space sonnet
The men stood restless on the loading dock.
All eyes scanned for the signs of transport ships.
Each one, past nonchalance, had checked the clock,
Attuned in thought, the same prayer on their lips.
At last the cloudless sky rained down the pods
Like dandelion fluff; and out they rowed
Into the bay with nets in eager squads -
The clutch of longed for eggs carefully towed.
One rower paused and gazed upon a face
Still in the sweet repose of cryosleep;
A snow white beauty in her clear glass case,
The sight of which made him both laugh and weep.
“The brides have come!” he cried, and all joined in
A shout of joy from pioneers: “Women!”
RCGA
