Tnorala rises
From a wide, flat plain
Dug out by a shooting star
Which fell to earth
If the bumblebee
Could do science
What world would its textbooks see
Some works of art remain incomplete
Once the artist has let them go
They need the touch of the audience
Their insight and influence
Wouldn’t it be nice
If the paths we could take in life
Were marked like ski runs
I love the chutzpah of communities
Which plunk themselves down on the edge of a continent
That the sea has been ferociously taking back
Since the land was born
In a landscape
Buffeted by winds
Battered by waves
The land and flora
Shaped, shattered,
Broken and splintered
The sandstone
Began to rise
Some 200 million
Years ago
Leaving the water to carve
An infant, a toddler
The geological child
Of a mother, Earth, 4 billion years old
Pix to Words 