Hills Astronomy Group
Poems by Jim Fulcomer
Old Sol, by any Other Name
Our puny little nearby star, seems to like us where we are.
Located in an orbital spot, that’s not too frigid or too
He blasts us constantly with radiation, regardless of our
And “constant” seems to be the key, for he shines on
But careful study has revealed that he has cycles, well
which vary in longevity and affect us accordingly.
The longest is the cycle “Maunder,” when quiet seem to
but other cycles far more brief, can cause us no end of
When Solar Flares erupt our way, Astronomers know there’s
hell to pay,
as Protons energetic, spill out in manner most frenetic.
Then electrons in torrential rains, overload our power
tripping massive circuit breakers; bad for movers and for
We now start cycle twenty-five, while solar-watchers strive
to figure out what’s going on, within the sphere of old
Could it be his middle age, or a show of inner rage?
Will the Parker Probe reveal, the answer to our, “what’s the
For times when Solus seems quiescent, but just as always
then the result is greater cooling and ice returns to Polar
The seas begin to shrink once more as glaciers rise in
An ice-age now descends to prove that Nature mocks our every
But there isn’t much that we can do, if the sun decides to
a gout of particles our way. It certainly could spoil
For there is almost no protection from this solar
And we, like dinosaurs before us, together sing our final