I take comfort that our carbon cousins
can take root in the smallest rock crevice
molecules packed so tightly together
even oxygen has no room to breathe
seeds seek sight unseen slightest patch of ground
reminder that left untended the world
would leave no room for anything but life
as much as we carve earth to suit our deaths
the blink that misses the river’s torrent
to forge a new prospect of the pavement
aspire to the plane of the parking lot
living as if already trod over
how much light to be as drift as the breeze
sowing consciousness where none of us sees
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Joshua Keiter 