Too Bad In Winter

On sea cliffs, nesting
Narrow edges, the
Common Murre lays
A pointy egg that
Only rolls in circles.
You are pointy too
And can be left
On ledges to keep
Unpointy people perched.
It makes them happy.
To learn what you are,
To resign, in good
Grace, all you are not
Is often the best
We've got --nothing
Common about that.

View From The Einstein-Rosen Bridge

An event
Bent upon itself,
What else could be
Before beginning,
A notch in nothing
Through which things pass
Faster than light?
What might ignite
Genesis, whose seed
Is itself?
Sense, mass, clay
Compose this thought
Or not, or yours
Where eternity pours
Its spark --perfecting
In light or dark or
Rain retained in
Leaf-filled fissures,
Erosion slows and
Life grows.