Voyager
VOYAGER
In the deep wastes of space cold
A small probe called Voyager
Moves slowly along,
Over thirty years old,
Far from its designer’s land
Far removed in time and distance
Yet still bearing the unmistakable
Stamp of that hand.
A designer moves through the city traffic jam
Conscious or unconscious
Of the fact that he carries
With him - his mother’s program.
Her sense of humor, her priorities,
Her idea of what is truly important,
Her sense of justice,
Her respect for the right authorities -
Tend, more or less, to be his too.
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