Each hour abides as a slow absorption,
osmosis between mongering eels,
furious humility cloaking omniscience.
I stand as observer puzzled
pooled and souring in cups within
folded flowers of napkin-weight meadows
lit by no moon or stars –
grasses burning white-hot
without dew each blade
a crackling lambs hair.
The earth lies within us
as we ply our trades
over her aspirating bosom.
It’s not one or the other.
It’s symbiosis.
If crestfallen then I’m of the air.
If afloat then of the soil.
If soaring then of the sea
all structures and fortresses
temporal, submerging themselves
gradually in hushed eclipses.
A day elapses
and then another.
The sun doesn’t leave the table.
It continues out of the room
on its orbit, hungry yet sated
as I continue on mine.
I dare anyone to step
into the same river twice.
About the Author
J M Flynn was the 2016 Writer in Residence at Carl Sandburg’s Connemara. His poetry collections include Restless Vanishings, and Keepers Meet Questing Eyes, both published by Leaf Garden Press. He’s earned writing awards from the New England Poetry Club, and the US Peace Corps. He writes from England.
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