May 5.23: Coping, but barely

I read to the bug.

When galaxies — galaxies! — collide,

a quasar is seared into being,

bright as a trillion suns!

 

The bug shrugged.

 

Quasar P172+18 sent its light to us

13 billion years ago! It arrived today!

 

The bug did not look up.

 

Our Milky Way galaxy will collide

with the Andromeda galaxy in

5 billion years!

 

The bug yawned.

 

Where is wisdom?

In the orbit of the wee bug,

immersed in so small a self,

or in the soul-freezing vastness

of what is

and has been

and will be?

I do not comprehend either.

 

With thanks to Ashley Strickland, space and science writer for CNN and her article “Solving the mystery of the most powerful objects in the universe.” I did get the feeling that the bug wondered why he wasn’t mentioned in her article.

 

March 14.23: Coping, but barely

In robinspeak: Look at me!

I call from minaret of tree!

Look up! I cannot wait all day

to sing my song and say my say!

Raise your eyes and tilt your head!

You’ve met your feet — look up instead!

The sky is grey and winter lingers;

wrap up tight and mitten your fingers,

or be like me and weather the weathers

by bellowing full your winter feathers.

Rise above! Stretch out your wings!

You humans are such starchy things!

I grant there’s good stuff in the dirt,

but too much looking down can hurt.

Look up and see the endless skies —

your spirit needs the exercise!

What risk to you, oh, you clay-bound,

when both your feet stay on the ground?

Dare to snub the daily strife

and defy the gravity of life!

 

Yes, dear reader, that’s what the robin said. I heard it myself.

 

July 8.22: Coping, but barely

A tenth of a billionth of a second.

My brain spins without traction

to comprehend the transience

of such unknowable fraction.

How can such a measure

of time, that slippery eel,

have meaning to poor mortal

like me, the math schlemiel?

Or maybe it’s not numbers

that anaesthetize my mind,

but rather awe and wonder

at our need to seek and find.

Perspectives thus established,

we see our own existence

in terms of what we don’t know

and potential obsolescence.

Are we really that important,

such tiny human spatter,

in view of proton particles

and abysses of dark matter?

I tend to think we are

though I’ve no idea why;

we blow each other up,

and pollute the sea and sky.

Microscope and telescope,

bacterium to star,

but all we have are stories

to explain the way we are.

 

 

I’ve been seeing articles, dear reader, about the Large Hadron Collider and the pursuit of dark matter. It’s all dark matter to me, but I do try for some meager understanding. I cannot wrap my mind around such a thing as a tenth of a billionth of a second, but I can marvel at it. As I marvel, it becomes personal. My place in this universe? I’m working on that.

My thanks to Juliana Kim for her NPR article that reminded me of perspective.

 

November 7.20: Coping

As I clutched my morning coffee

and sought some inspiration,

I searched election-day sky

in vacuous contemplation.

And there it was, the message

amid chaotic fall:

there’s always more than one way

to rise above it all.

 

 

To be sure, dear reader, I have not risen above it all; I’m loony and weary and full of opinions. When I try to rise above it all, I just thud down. And so it was that I watched these hardy folks float over my head and accused them of taking the easy way. Which is definitely not to say that I wanted to be up there with them! Mocking gravity while dangling in a basket is not my idea of rising above.

 

April 3.20: Coping

I escaped into the garden,

a news-free calming spot,

to check on season’s progress

in every nook and pot.

Imagine my excitement

at this discovery;

I’m thrilled with its new life

but no idea what it might be.

 

Do you know, dear reader?

Is there any chance this could be the scabiosa that jumped into my cart last year?

April 1.20: Coping

Tomorrow, said the bard,

creeps from day to day.

Tomorrow, Annie sang,

the sun will come out to play.

I prefer the winsome second

but I feel the somber first

as  fearful grim realities

grind from bad to worst.

 

Now it’s personal, dear reader. My son is presumed positive.

And so we wait.

I wish I could say April Fool!

 

March 31.20: Coping

A window should be two-way

just as life should be about.

Who will we become

if it’s just for looking out?

If all the world is framed

by the glass in our four walls,

will our brains all turn to mush,

our strides turn into crawls?

 

 

More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg,

and to the anonymous cat,

who obviously did not trust the photographer.

 

Connections: February 27.18

Eye of Borg

 tunnel’d vision

uber doodle

 ode to precision

still, kinetic

 distance-bound

optic echoes

   straight and round.

 

More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.

Connections

 

 

 

 

Connections: October 8.17

“It’s where you put your eyes”

so went the lesson lyrical

teaching point of view

based on the empirical.

The children’s song holds true

as we try to be reflective

about our portioned turmoil

and strive for sane perspective.

 

 

More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.

Connections

 

Connections: August 28.17

If you find you’re losing hope

for your fellow hominids

seek out some shady park

sit down and watch some kids.

 

 

With thanks to the Ann Strychalski family album.

Connections