Some days…I feel
Like a mountain; am I
Inert? Alive? Or
Does my body
Express a slower ecological tempo
In rhythm with the grinding of glaciers,
The tremor of the earth,
The low rumble of river rocks
As they speak of where they came from
And where they are going—
The slow precession through the equinoxes.
This is NOT a funeral durge—
A slow march to death. Today
The wind carries a message
From a professor far away, “Love
Love, this coming together
Of particles and presences
In a dance weaving through the centuries.
Peaking and dissolving….
And yet we are not mere fractals—
God dreaming the dreamer dreaming
We reunite in infinite variation,