The ducks have paddled away and so
I can skip stones across the pond.
Tree leaves like mouse ears, April bulbs
above ground though nights are still cold.
My mood is all yellow and purple.
This agreement in dimensions, proportion, arrangement, balance.
Desired by many as harmonious and beautiful.
Mathematical, geometric, in nature, arts, architecture, music.
Natural, but not easily achieved in life,
because cosmic forces, like time, are asymmetrical.
that flew beside me in my car,
at 30 mph down a suburban street:
Were you racing? Why choose my car?
Did you glance at my amazed face?
Can we talk? Coffee, worms and berries?
this twenty-first century morning makes me
a Roman meditating a thousand years ago
On the Nature of Things, a universe
without gods, made from very small particles,
eternal motion colliding, swerving in new directions.
This poem was inspired by reading The Swerve: How the World Became Modern. For a more in-depth version of my thoughts on all this, see “On the Nature of Things” on my Weekends in Paradelle blog.
To discern the laws of small things,
walk the room’s border, read book edges,
examine breasts carefully with your eyes closed,
look at where pine cone meets branch,
listen to bird songs in the rain.