A small quasi-literary offering from the NØAX archives to my many readers at the end of 2012. Keep it magical!
This quiet eve with all asleep
The time has come alone to keep
My schedule
Without a station’s sign at hand
I simply tune across the band
To listen
Detecting falls of frozen flake
Faint cracklings distant nimbus make
Their message
This window onto blackest night
Envisioned through electric sight
Of wireless
A station under sun or star
From key or voice or touch afar
Is calling
Waves fly beyond to skybound plane
Yet gently bent to ground again
The signal
Whose fields my silent wires find
Imperatives electrons mind
In current
Miniscule yet well received
A miracle by me perceived
As magic
73, Ward NØAX
