At apogee, they see us whole ....
one breathing globe of blue and bone,
oceans cinched in circling light,
continents etched like ancient runes.
From the barren hush of lunar stone,
Earth rises — a blue astonishment
lifting above cratered desolation.
The sight steals every practiced breath.
In that fragile, floating sphere
they recognise their only home:
precious, perilous, impossibly alive.
Respect deepens into something older ....
a vow, unspoken, sealed in awe.
Alps gleam green and brown with age,
deserts smoulder in tawny hush,
polar crowns burn white as prophecy,
cloud-spirals turn in tireless dance.
From that far silence, quarrels fall away;
the planet gathers into a single breath ....
one world turning in its robe of weather,
waiting for its wanderers to return.
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7 March 2026