Blue Gravity

The curvature of water

And here, in the kingdom of clouds,
vast continents of mist
dwarf the mountains,
lumber lightly
in from the ocean,
float improbably, silently.
They sometimes, when the air is cold,
leak acres of crystal
in the high wilderness of fir and grizzly,
burying the trees and crags of the
inaccessible mystery in white.

And here, over the empire of emeralds,
they sweep and swell and
break apart and spill out
mighty rivers and silver lakes,
wash the air clean and
sift down through my willow tree,
bit by drop, sink from sight and
hurry to refill the ocean.

From space this
blue globe of oceans and
miles-deep rock,
warped and moulded by

rivers of gravity,
seems serene and cool, but
the vast Himalayas,
Hindu Kush,
Mid-Ocean Ridge,
Andes and Alps,

bend creaking and cracking
under the stars
before the unseen power
of attraction
and, all ’round
a swirling immensity
of water, mother and father of
life, defines the horizon,
for eternity tends
to seek the perfection
of the sphere.