The Curiosity Rover has arrived at the base of Mount Sharp in the middle of the Gale Crater on the planet Mars. It has taken our intrepid contraption two Earth years to get there, but the journey will be worth it once the machine completes its mission to dig a hole and sample some foothill soil.

This is a historic meeting between a tiny piece of human technology and a massive off-world landmark, akin to the time Apollo astronaut Alan Shepard hit a golf ball into Javelin Crater on the moon.

If it is our destiny to send an expedition to the red planet, this is a memorable moment – qualified for immortality in legend and song.

If we take the time to write the legend or song, that is.

So I asked Trail Baboon poet laureate Schuyler Tyler Wyler to come up with some heroic something to mark the occasion, and he said he would only do it if he could steal “The Kalevala” from the Finns. I said I was uneasy with that, but he could certainly swipe “The Song of Hiawatha” from Longfellow if he wanted to, and a deal was struck.

By the looming Martian mountain,
in the greater reddish crater,
sat an Earthly metal Rover.
Curiosity the Rover.

Said the mountain to the roller,
“Who are you to dare approach me?
You who are a shiny tiny
pile of nuts and bolts and washers?”

“Don’t be such a self-important
feature of the Martian landscape,”
said the Rover to the mountain.
“You are nice, but no Mt. Shasta.”

Darkly, then, the mountain grumbled.
Grumbled with the voice of ages,
calling out this cheeky gizmo
with its wheels all bent and dusty.

“Who are you to dare approach me?”
called the bulge of crimson boulders
in an atmosphere so wimpy
as it loomed above the Rover

“I am but the first of many,”
said the Rover to the mountain.
“More machines and then some people.
They will make you miss me sorely.”

“People here will scale your summit.
In your valleys, they’ll go bowling.
They’ll have picnics in your meadows
leaving trash that lasts forever.”

“Aeolis Mons will not be taken
by such silly, messy Earthlings.
I’m gigantic. Did you notice?
Far too big to be diminished.”

“Aeolis Mons may be a name that
sounds to you like that’s your label
But when humans take this planet
you’ll become Mt. Sharp forever.”

“And what’s more,” said the contraption
“on this spot will be a marker
to commemorate my journey
and my name will be emblazoned
high above your rosy foothills
on a neon sign announcing
the location of a strip mall
widely known as ‘Rover Plaza’.”

Where’s your favorite historical marker?