Poetry

Encounter

I saw
all
the galaxies
swirling as dust
in an
elephant’s eye,
or perhaps he
spied
them in me,
my own
reflection
dazzling his
perception
for a
breathtakingly
brief
moment –
an aberration
no doubt
that passed
without
comment.
The elephants
know, of course,
but have agreed
not to speak
of such
things,
for there are
none that
believe
save the moon
and her owls,
the hawks,
and the most
ancient of trees

Categories: Poetry

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