small stone 9, a storm of energy

Just below the quiet winter earth,

a storm of energy is brewing.

Yet like the wild electric fury

of life beneath my skin,

I hardly consider its tilting, rushing power.


So, placing my palm upon the ground, how is it

I cannot feel the creative pulse beneath its somber face?

Exploding divisions, multiplications,

a torrent of living maths I know is there but cannot see,

bound together in miraculous synchronicity.


But not so long from now, vivid shoots of green,

the fecund growth of Spring, will prove again;

That heaving beneath my feet there lies

an infinite, broiling lake of life.