by Gideon Burton
A world appears and disappears. Observe
the cosmos blush and crest and burst alight
with radiance and night. The comets swerve
and circle, suns grow dim in embered flight;
they turn, returning, churning fresh the coal
reluctance of the waving curtains' mass,
deep wells of gravity and time. A bowl
of water quivers, blue and brooding, vast
enough for microbe mammoths, insect whales
and here and there an eon like a tide
flows ebbing, ups the ante and the scale,
geographies and centuries collide.
Then man appears and lingers for his day,
and in a hiccup vanishes away.
Photo: flickr - TimOve