We are twelve billion light years from the edge. That’s a guess.
—Katie Melua, “Nine Million Bicycles”
It took perhaps
one hundred fifty million years
of cell division
and genomic transition
to lead up to the moment
this morning in which
the heron, standing
so still in the river
was startled by my step
and extended his wings
to raise his great body
over the water
opening, as he lifted,
my heart.
Is this a long time,
or short?
The miracle. The miracle.
When the heron appears, the poem begins to soar.
I like so much the “heart” line that I want the poem to end there, but I like the idea too of time at the end. I wonder if it would alter the timeline too much if you turned it into statement? Just a pondering…