by Robin Chapman
What’s not changing in time?
The glass in the window pane
sags slowly, the sunlight
streams through the glass, the cat
washes her face with her paw,
the house gathers dust motes,
the geraniums we brought in
before frost take root and flower.
Outside, a wind is blowing the leaves about.
The universe we once thought steady-state
is flying apart. Inside, we are waltzing,
laughing, to the music of the nickelharppe.
And you, reader, anchored by gravity
and oxygen and eye, thinking now
of the sky full of stars, dancing, house repairs–
what strange, unpredictable pattern is yours?
-from Images of a Complex World:
The Art and Poetry of Chaos (R. Chapman &
J.C. Sprott, Singapore: World Scientific, 2005).
First appeared in The Wisconsin Poets' Calendar: