A timely message
Librations, rotations, nutations, oh my!
La lune ne garde aucune rancune,
She winks a feeble eye,
She smiles into corners,
She smooths the hair of the grass.
The moon has lost her memory.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face...
T.S. Eliot, Rhapsody On a Windy Night
