Aperture Fever

Andrew Thornett

For radio astronomers everywhere

We started small, a modest dish,
A meter wide—fulfilled the wish
To scan the skies and hear the sound
Of whispers faint, yet so profound.

But soon enough, that would not do,
The hiss was soft, but signals few.
"A larger dish!" we cried in glee,
And bolted steel to PVC.

A garden lost, a lawn replaced
By mesh and beams—oh, what a waste!
Neighbours gawked, their patience frayed,
As concrete footings poured and stayed.

Yet still, the noise, the cursed din,
A cosmic murmur, weak and thin!
Aperture grows, but so does need,
The hunger swells, a beast to feed.

A thousand dishes, phased in line,
Their shadows stretch, a grand design.
The town petitioned, courts decreed:
"Remove the menace!"—Would we heed?

Oh no, dear friends, for stars still call,
From voids beyond this mortal thrall.
To fainter whispers we aspire,
And so, the aperture grows… still wider.

And when at last the Earth is tiled
With metal plates in fashion wild,
We’ll turn our sights, with bold delight,
To building one upon the Moon…

good night.