Life, creativity, better even than God
which many believe in, more than the dollar

or the existence of fermions—does it matter
that Antares can consume 663 trillion Earths?

Monstrous weight, that can, if you like, be lifted
by the work of bees: a miracle none foretold.

We can’t get it right like Newton—we search
for patterns to lay it down in best durable forms


watch the sea deal with rocks, feel sand between
your toes—let’s say of art that it thinks differently

about the shape of mushrooms we picked together
on Saturday—we don’t know anything about them

except two hours of fun in paddocks: the biosphere
and adventure ours—no one’s going nowhere

but the infinity of our own creative purpose
arriving at a place unknown.


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