Curling, Curling

A globe, curling, curling,
hurtling itself through the expanse.
Massive streams of light break off
delicate rays of heat and cold vaporize.
The Earth knows itself,
its hard won creation, freedom and mirth.
It won't give up so easy.

Time will tell, and time knows well
the infinite variety of kinds--
of things that break, and things that make
this world turn round and round,
Slowly, quickly, softly, loudly
everyday upon its silver axis.

And if you chance to see
a glimpse of me, just know
that not often have I tried
(or appeared to try)
to disappear, reappear
or change my mind about anything.
These things just are;
it's the way they've always been,

I am as invisible as my mind,
always pondering the methods
and the rhymes of life and it's legions
--scores and scores--
of times when the world stops spinning
and tips, ever so slightly,
to the right.


*To all and anyone who still reads this, my long-neglected blog, I salute you. I offer this poem and photograph by way of an apology and as something to finally change this space's landscape....