I left the dome,
I saw the sun,
Its caramel sky
Unwhorled by glass.
I heard the sounds
Of water unbound
From a fountain.
I found the green.
I found the grass
Its roots our hands
Buried in the scarlet soil.
The path was still
But for straining leaves
The sun traced pools
That stretched away
Behind my feet.
The first rebellious prints
Pressed in Martian earth
That wasn’t paved.