Eyes of creatures long gone
And what they saw are
Caught under crystal
From solution--
Light of other days compressed
Into stone, deposited
Here and there--
Their tongues lapping
At the surface of waters
Long since turned
To desert.
Here, between red,
Green, yellow are
Black veins in
Travertine that tell
Of seas, rivers, lakes
Come and gone,
Prairies carbonized.
There is much to read
In a pebble.
Why does this remind me of some of your finer poems from some 40 years ago? Perhaps it's that focusing down through layers and layers existence to what turns out to be the pebble.
ReplyDeleteWillie