is old, so old it was a sapling when
Rome fell and Aztec still was spoken
in these woods
where we stood, my friend
and I, staring skyward,
she in quiet prayer and I musing
whether life's sundry forms
prove it must be sprouting out there
in countless starry gulches
of the Milky Way and far beyond
in ways an earthly brain can’t fathom.
We know Earth shimmers with a beauty
that’s finely tuned to human sensibility,
but not only human, and surely
not only Earth
Copyright (c) 2012 Ellen McCarthy. All rights reserved.
Published in Spring 2013 edition of
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