In Which Is Considered Glise 581g

We've found one in the zone called Goldilocks,
A planet that can hold on to its air
And might have liquid water. While this rocks --
No doubt about that -- we must have a care:
This doesn't mean there's life, or that we'll talk
To beings living there soon (and indeed
Those rumors 'bout the Datuk we must knock
As groundless). I know some, with undue speed
Have jumped to such conclusions in the press.
While Glise 581g looks just right
'Twill be some time yet ere we make a guess
As to life's presence 'round that red dwarf. Might
We have some neighbors? Maybe. But I find
Another home for us is on my mind.

In Which My Wounded Dignity Is Soothed By The Music Of The Spheres

Spring snow is wet and sloppy, and so slick

Today's word really ought to just be "fall"

(The verb and not the season: quite some trick

To make it through the winter, almost all

Of it, and not once take a digger, but

Do so today, spectacularly, too!).

I don't mind, though; my Exoplanet nut,

Roald has set my mind at much ease through

This music that he found, for list'ning while

One gazes as the sky and contemplates

The worlds that spin out there. I have to smile

Despite this bone-deep chill. A hot bath waits

But not just yet, I'm digging all these tracks,

And it's high time I kick back and relax.

In Which I Mash Up Astronomy And Nirvana, Because I Can

I'm happy 'cause today I found my sun

Has much less lithium than it quite should

But it's not in my head, the reason, one

That is not in my head; my will is good:

I'll tell you why. Yeah. Planets make it slow,

The star's rotation, and the mineral,

So heavy, deep within the star must go,

Drawn there by mighty force to fuse. Farewell

To it then; it is something else. Thus those

With less of the third element, are more

Than likely candidates for planets. Prose

Ill serves such wonders. Mirrors? I've broken four!

But I must tell you I'm not going to crack.

I love this news; I'm never looking back!

Friday Flash: No Return To Mount Shasta Is On The Horizon

Sonneteer's note: this is the tenth installment of my sonnet-by-sonnet summary of a larger work, The Interstellar Feller, to be released sometime next year. To see the story so far, check out Part the Oneth here, Part the Twoth here, Part the Threeth here, part the Fourth here, Part the Fiveth here, Part the Sexieth here, Part the Seventhuth here, Part the Octthhhh here and Part the Ninth here. Wow!

Awake again and riding on the lines

Of monofilment her thumbs produce,

Yectara listens not unto the whines

Of fear or of concern her crew lets loose.

The navigator jerks when once he knows

His station is her destination. He

Makes weakly his salute and vainly throws

His glance amongst his crewmen but all we

See from them is that special empty stare,

Awaiting further orders from their queen.

"To Epsilon Aurigae we now dare,"

Yectara barks. The navigator's screen

Is quickly tuned to seek out that far star

And all the worlds around it. "There you are."

Bonus Bonus Bonus Sonnet Dare: In Which I Ponder Habitable Exoplanets

In March the Kepler probe began to seek
The subtle signs of planets far in space
That circle other stars. Is Earth unique
As an abode for life like ours? This place
Which some believe's created just for us
Might not be all that special, all that rare.
But then I ponder on Copernicus,
Who laid the Ptolemaic theory bare
And proved to all the Earth goes round the sun.
It took hundreds of years before some folk
Accepted this, unbanned his book and one
Suspects that out there still, like some great joke
Are people who'll insist his work's all lies
And exoplanets naught but fireflies.