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Lincoln Hills Astronomy Group
   Poems by Jim Fulcomer          


Philae, Rosetta’s tag-along, left his mom and said “so-long”
Down to Sixty-seven-P, just to look around and see
if comets could have been the source, of water, carbon and of course
signs of molecules organic, resolving astronomic panic.

The landing went not as intended, bouncing twice, but not up-ended.
In the shadow of a cliff, his experiments went cold and stiff.
With no solar light to power, he grew weaker hour by hour.
Batteries which lose their charge, discoveries cannot enlarge.

Unless his panels rearrange, the situation will not change.
He promised he would be right back, then suddenly it all went black.
Controllers at the ESA tried valiantly to make him play.
Poor little guy will be a Dumbo and all his work a Philae gumbo.