Wandering through the isles with the Martians,
We landed here, this cozy lodge, thick wooden
Beams, field-stones, walls insulated with straw bales
And poems tucked into each wall
Snug against the storms. The long days now,
We stay inside, bundled and warm,
Fire built up and crackling,
Sipping tea, eating those crisp Martian cakes shaped
Like Earth with their faint tang of lemon.
We tell each other stories, the Martians and I, softly,
In quiet voices to match the snow
Drifting past our glazed windows,
Building feather mountains like the ones they remember.
