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Genesis carried wafers in her hold
To catch the particles sent from the sun.
Diamond, sapphire, gold
Were those fine webs, as if by spiders spun
Beside whom specks of dust would weigh a ton.
A million miles from Earth, in the deep cold,
The particles collected in the skeins.
Diamond, sapphire, gold
They flowered like tiny salt pans in the rains —
Fresh tablecloths distressed with coffee stains.
Back in the lab, the altered wafers told
A story of how poetry is born:
Diamond, sapphire, gold
Serenities invaded by stuff torn
From the incandescent storm that powers the dawn.
(Spectator, March 11, 2006)