Crop Growers of the Universe

The soil on Delphi is hard as the cone of a rocket.
It's dry. It's pathetic in minerals.
If it grows anything at all,
it's a pilgrim's heartbreak.

But our ship comes equipped
with a full load of rich loam.
Precious water-tanks are off-loaded.
The world's impregnated with seed

whether it likes it or not.
I feel like a missionary
converting a local tribe to my religion.
So what if they never do say "Thank you."

Eventually, crops flourish.
A little evolution gets involved.
The surrounding plains want in.
Humans can survive here after all.

Sure our heads are stuck in helmets
when we're out tending crops.
And we live in metallic igloos
with fake air pumped in.

But we've made our point.
We've brought a dead planet to life.
We can pack up and leave
knowing that we really don't have to

And it's on to the next world.
the next greenhouse experiment.
We're Johnny Appleseeds with light year strides.
We're making the universe safe for transients.