A Public Sphere for Poetry, Nature, and Politics
Began to watch the hourglass
when there were seven grains left
in the neck, each one
particular, crystalline, containing
a world neglected up till now,
what mansions and rivers
are contained within its prism
and thus the sorrow
as another grain drops, leaving six.
How many worlds
have slipped away from us
as we slept? Now there are five.
Copyright 2015 Doug Anderson