>Now I know why I’m hereNot for a closer look at the moon,But to look backAt our homeThe Earth. Quietly, like a night bird, floating, soaring, wingless.We glide from shore to shore, curving and fallingbut not quite touching;Earth: a distant memory seen in an instant of repose,crescent shaped, ethereal, beautiful,I wonder which part is home, but I know it doesn’t matter . . .the bond is there in my mind and memory;Earth: a small, bubbly balloon hanging delicatelyin the nothingness of space.