We stand and look up at stars—so few of them,
just the ones we can see,
and we feel so small.
Waves come in from the sea, so far away,
Ancestors keep walking away from us,
further and further into the past.
Every once in a awhile the person next to you
We can’t help but think of eternity,
a twelve-mile beach we walk and walk and walk,
the stone ribs of a mountain we can only touch
one hand-width at a time.
We get lost standing in our back yard speculating,
a little afraid, a little abashed, while underfoot
keep flowering and flowering,
and the bumblebees attend.
May 18, 2020