Dropsonde

I am a dropsonde in the fullest air
I have known since the start of stars.
I’m coming in fresh from the Kármán Line;
falling through the fingerprint of isobars.
Whatever I capture in my Marsden square
I will broadcast back; record the dry punch.
My message reflects my medium.
I crossed the lines of the Marfa front.
I have taken what I can from what I found.
Get ready for the the fall out from this
after the coming of the loudest sound.
This is all mined, it’s what I do, what I must.
I’ll whistle my way in for you.
Let’s not forget the blue waiting for us.