J. E. Landau

Spring

Hazy moons shine down
On our rockets and rovers.
New life–a new place.

Summer

Rocky machines fall
From the blazing sky above
For violence, or peace?

Autumn

We wait and harvest.
Are they hungry or lonely,
Across the glass fields?

Winter

If only we knew,
They would vanish like frost breath
While we watched them.

New Year

New settlers landed,
Bringing wine and cheery news.
Still, we feel afraid.