Hidden in the Oort cloud
panther among rushes
Comet feels the hand of Neptune
nudge him out of orbit
At the same moment, over a gumbo
lunch, we discuss--darting and feinting
like fencers--the pros and cons
of evolution as a provable theory.
Overhead, fans blow humidity
into heavy air, softness filtering
from the skylight, moisture dripping
down stone walls. If we ignore the young
sparrows playing tag among them, hanging
ferns complete a Devonian atmosphere.
During that single hour,
mutations occur the planet over,
glacial change creeping through murky
gene pools, predator and prey
locked an eternal game of run-and-chase.
When Comet arrives, he will lay
a gentle hand on every living thing
and say, "You're it."
8 comments:
I'll ponder run-and-chase, but "gentle" absolutely is what I need, strange as it may sound. But I'm still working on this, so the rest of the poem may not quite lead to such a subtle ending yet. Thanks so much for the read, Mf.
RT
You and the Mermiad blogger both into Darwin (I wonder why? :))
For me, very cool to be back in New Orleans at thatLOUD tasble-- to be led gently to the End- Absolutely love the You are it. Can an ignoramus ask, Will the comet kill us all-- not only the meteoric annihilation of a few species? Asking as a blonde mutated into grey ;)
Aish
This is sacrilege! It's free verse! Although, I sense the poet, not the comet, saying "You're it" with his magic words, the betrayal of rhymes in the "ng's" and good form in meter in L1, 2 & 3.
I meant L1, 3 & 4--oops. Maybe I'll never evolve past typos.
Hi Shi, anon (whoever you are), Paula,
Thanks for dropping in. I'm still working on this, but I like your idea, Paula.
RT
Hi Shi, anon (whoever you are), Paula,
Thanks for dropping in. I'm still working on this, but I like your idea, Paula.
RT
Hi Shi, anon (whoever you are), Paula,
Thanks for dropping in. I'm still working on this, but I like your idea, Paula.
RT
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