20 | Poetry by John Grey, Winner of the SFPA Rhysling Award

---

The Object in the Sky

It came at day’s end,
an early star,
a glowing sphere in the sky.

It had journeyed a long way,
a reconnaissance vessel,
so far from its home planet,
its signals were too weak
to report the news –
“This world appears promising.”

Of course, I knew none of this,
merely watched from my window
as it hovered in the sky.

Must be our military,
I said to myself.
For war I understood.
Immigration was never my strong point.

Unidentified Flying Object

What do you mean unidentified?
It’s an X1-575 spaceship
from the planet Zyb
with a crew of a thousand or more
scientific experts on subjects ranging
from alien archaeology
to insect life on other worlds,
who are here on a mission
to survey the viability of Earth
as a dumping ground
for their high-tech waste.

Now leave me alone, will you.
I have a cult to run.

The Desert Hermit

From my desert shack,
I am used to nothingness.
So why am I staring up at lights
that hover over my rooftop?
In this arid land,
where nothing sprouts but solitude,
how can it be that I have company?
No one from the nearest town
drives out this way.
And yet, have creatures come
billions of miles
to partake of this parched landscape?
Its very remoteness coddles me.
But, for aliens, where does the attraction lie?
Sure they can beam me up,
poke me, prod me,
examine my body’s every inch,
inside and out,
but they’ll learn nothing
of this planet’s occupants.
For I live alone,
see no one, don’t engage at all
with the world’s offerings,
exist on the merest needed to survive.
Sorry, but I’m no human learning tool.
I’m as much an alien as they are.

---