this planet
stone and iron and boiling blood
does ten billion seem long
does it feel the years
in the grating of its blistered plates
when like restless limbs it shifts
its mountains and its seas
the immortal jellyfish makes itself young again
reacting to hurt or hunger
with quiet surrender
falling down to the ocean’s floor
and regressing to ripped jeans and bad choices
a dumb polyp looking forward anew
we humans make it seventy-nine before succumbing
to the spoiled form of our beginning
the ash of our creation
had we learned what we needed
given what needed giving
twenty days for the slender gnat
so few nights, cool on the diaphanous wing
what will this high bright moon become
so few seconds to take in a world
that has more time for you
than you can possibly spare
