Over Time, Shadows
I can’t measure things for you
I sense the shadows of insects moving under the Sun
So, time has passed, that much.
But I have no idea how long anything takes.
I wait for people to take me places
When I was a child
They showed me boulders that were split by trees
I have no direction of my own; I am stilled by
The woodlice under the Rose of Sharon
They are in shade all day long
Someone told me they are
Not insects, they are crustaceans
Tiny lobsters of the leaf litter.
They live in shade because
Each leaf demands its portion of light
Evolved to the exact spectrum of Chlorophyll.
They live near plants,
So they live near shade
Not me, though.
This animal tosses two coins at once
I close my eyes and hold my breath
Maybe I will continue to live and die
Without friends, without enemies
Someone must tell me my destination
However temporary
Like a man with a rock and a wooden spear,
I am asking unknown entities for directions to life and death.
The roiling mountain waters
Cascade like icy silk around an exoskeleton
A minuscule life is nearing its end
It has dispersed its animalcules of reproduction
Or it has not. It is digital, binary.
There is no analog to
Eggs and semen and that sticky gelatin that turns alive.
All female insects can reproduce asexually
So what develops?
Maybe after a chaotic age
A single insect will click into the Sun
And feel itself aware.
© Donald Warren Hayward 2020
