Early in my tenure for the position at which I continue to work, a letter arrived. Very well stamped, and sealed up in the sort of sturdy finished paper stock that only the most civilized foreign correspondents have available, it contained a poem. In fact, it was more than a poem. It was a sort of revelation.
Somewhere in India, a metallurgist had spent who knows how many hours working out in rhyme and meter an explanation and celebration of ductile iron — or rather SG iro