Born of debris, one sweet
where silicates hold tight,
hot like nothing before it,
hell-bent on escape.
Where brothers and sisters
burned out and
fell to be nothing, this meteoroid
makes it through.
With cosmic velocity, a
birthday present of matter delivers itself;
through a tear in the fabric of the atmosphere,
a gift to us,
deepest iron glinted with
the flecks of time, of space.
Like a baseball thrown way out of the stadium,
it smashes into the desert,
twinkling in the eye of the sun;
that distant relative
who looks down upon the crater as if to say
well done, you did it, you got away.