Observer
Rich humus wafts through nostrils to my mind,
Musty fragrance of decay and rebirth.
The Milky Way in front, the grass behind
Strapped to the front of our rocketship Earth.
The tent flap gently rustles in the breeze.
Damp soil beneath starts to embrace my spine.
A chain of ants crawl gently ‘cross my knee
Roots of my soul sink into loam behind.
In cosmic terms, this moment but a blink,
Yet it’s my time to worship at this shrine.
Deeper into our mother’s breast I sink
For now this miracle is only mine.
A lonely reverie? It’s plain to see
The universe watches itself through me.
3/8/16
Copyright © Tom Quigley | Year Posted 2016
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