“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Monday, October 26, 2015
One thing at a time
Looking at parts of the hole
I see
minuscule matters
and things such as these
meta seek and micro zoom
You said and I said
We mean
the small pieces, by letter
one
It's hard to hear
the echo is blurry
what do you see
in the closeness?
One
there are clouds
clods of dirt and minerals
gems, fools gold
made into shiny clay
by the minuteness of
concentration
pulled into Virga
amounting to nothing
but the pressure to become
one
haboob
passing through
what was
once
a lush landscape.
Image by Grant W. Goodge, NASA, in N. Caroline, Virga from atop Flat Top Mountain.
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