On the Noise Between the Stars
Andrew Thornett
“On the Noise Between the Stars”
(after a discussion among sky-listeners).
The Bard of Lichfield, 11/11/2025.
It seems the hum of galaxies too vast to see,
their whispered static woven through the night,
has oft been blamed, too freely and too broad,
for drowning meteors’ fleeting silver songs.
The radio sky is not one tone, one field—
it swells and dips, a map of living light,
where synchrotron veils, a thousandfold
the cosmic background’s colder, even glow.
Turn your antenna east, the noise will rise;
turn west, and quiet pools may yet be found.
One said: “Direction is the key—
the heavens are not equal in their roar.”
And another, patient in his craft, replied:
“One cannot fault such care.
The signal, once reflected from the trail,
already bears the galactic murmur in its heart;
our art is not to silence it,
but to discern the meteor’s breath within.”
So, we who listen where the ion burns,
must weigh the gain and gentle loss of coils.
A preamp at the mast, cool and low of noise,
may lift the whisper through the hiss,
and filters, wisely placed, may carve
the song from out the crowding storm.
Thus, through the long coax of the world,
we learn again that sky and earth conspire:
noise and flame, reflection and restraint—
each pulse a ghost of motion,
each ping a falling star
translated into sound.