Birdsong

Bustle and caw. Recall the green heat rising from the new minted earth, granite and basalt, proto-continents shuffling and stacking the deck, first shadows flung from the ultraviolet haze. A fern uncurls from the swamp, the microscopic furnace of replication warms the world, one becoming two, two four: exponential blossom. Lush with collision, the teacup balance of x and y, cells like balloons escaping into the sky—then the dumbstruck hour, unmoored by a river, a first fish creeps to the land to marvel at the monstrous buds of its toes. And stars grow feet and walk across the years, into these dozing, ordinary days, climbing the spine’s winding stair, where crickets yawn and history spins.