Ham Radio Operating poetry

DX Sonnet

[Today’s run: rest day]

In tall and grassy noise I hear a peep.
A zed el from New Zealand's tiny bleat
that echos with a hollowness of space,
distorted by collisions with the globe,
refractions in the layered atmosphere.
I take my key and tap a quick reply
while hoping that some larger station's call
does not monopolize the Kiwi's ear,
but that he'll hear me likewise in the air
and recognize my smaller wattage note
as something meekly sent with best regards
and kind intentions.  And imagine here
me hov'ring in the glow of dial lights
half 'round the world, a mirror of himself.