Cosmos

A trio of ducks flew low over the Feather River.
They landed abruptly, feet first, heads held upward.
Indelicately splashing the shallow water.

Last hues of light over the mountains.
Darkness slowly settled along the bank,
Yellow moonlight floods across the water.

Rattling of leaves, swaying of branches,
A soft white feather from a nest,
Descent prolonged by the stirring wind;

Calm like awareness of breath,
Quiet like a meteor streaking,
Alone like the millions of stars.

Stars born with all desire and purpose,
Stars burning with essential elements,
Stars that are the genesis.

The beginning and the end,
A blinding flash of light,
Explosion and whirlwind,
Terrifying force of creation.

Galaxies are fleeing,
Withering away in light years,
Earth in her last dance.
With a certain smiling arrogance
An axe to the mother-root.

Shiver with the fate of man,
Pull the blanket tight around,
Shut the eyes against the night.
Waiting for the birds of morning.

Created by Bill Keys
billgkeys@yahoo.com
facebook.com/bill.keys