Clouds of broken visions lay in wait

When satellites let out their final breath

They must be mapped and never left in peace,

For fear of their reprisal after death

 

The latent destruction caused by a piece

Of broken manmade construct is so vast,

And with each jettison it does increase

 

All remains less than grapefruits are miscast;

To track them is numerically intense,

With many nameless objects now amassed

 

But likelihood has come to our defence

By treating these small splinters as a cloud

And using drag to model if they’re dense

 

Behind these stats new missions can stand proud.

From exospheric fragments we can’t see,

Our imitation moons will not be cowed

 

But floating still across the starry sea

More clouds of broken visions lay in wait;

And through the net slips some elapsed debris

That longs to consign others to its fate.

This is terza rima about this piece of research on mapping the small debris from satellite explosions.