Walking the dry creek bed
this cool morning,
my boots stumble
upon millions of years
of geological debris.
These countless rocks
washed how far
by current and storm?
Born of fire and water,
broken by time and motion,
shale and limestone splinters
testify mutely
to the potent
anonymous forces
that shape and deposit us
on this ground
where we stand,
unsure how we arrived.
We are rocks in this stream,
our lives shaped by powers
We cannot know,
do not understand.
Creek bed, debris,
fragments, shards
and morning chill:
the ineluctable,
unknowable reality
of what is now.
- mce
No comments:
Post a Comment