Madam Sherri’s Castle, Chesterfield, New Hampshire

In Spring the Thaw

And down from the peaks
those same old molecules, pissed out,
tumble (late from the bowels of a chipmunk)
tiny bits of life
downhill

Sunshine: warm, dry.
When they climb
that great sky ladder
what do we see…?

Who knows which motes of sky
were made at the beginning of time
and rolled down that gentle but slippery
nineteen billion years high slope to us
and which became, in that blink of moment?

Testimony
of a new creation?