A Transitory Tale

O ecliptic star, we look to thee

For any sign of intelligence, or technology.

Peer you this way, our Earth you'll see

In silhouette upon our Sun, periodically.

And if, perchance, our gazes intersect at last

We'll share the same moment, now many years past.

And if your ancestors knew exactly the distance

They'd know when to send the message transmittance.

They'll have timed your infrared laser pulses to arrive

Tonight, when your star goes antisolar, at a half past five.

(UT, that is.)

David Oesper