Objects in Motion
The barely perceptible hum I almost missed,
the tiniest oscillation on the screen,
was the dancing line of the first fireball returning.
Time as a tidal pool became clear,
how to stand quietly at its edge and look back in,
and later, looking back in, it became easy
to count every pulsar and nebula,
asteroid and comet, moon and meteor.
Not far from a field of corn on one planet,
next to a car parked beneath the pinball sky,
one person takes a small step forward
into the arms of another. I think,
from this distance, of their particulate image
rolling out in waves, riding the seahorse photons,
of the small step, of their arms enfolding,
of their stepping again and again into comforting arms,
the eternal momentum of objects in motion.