Stones and Water

Small things, small differences, simple
Changes in the weather, the winds
That have died down where you are now,

The subtraction of crystalline
Views of the stars, the addition
Of rain, fogs, and shape-shifting clouds,

The relocation of nations
In the news, the reopening
Of borders as others are closed,

The swift reconfiguration,
Day to day, of fairy numbers,
Their counts, their value, their incomes,

Means of storing or losing them,
And you’re probably small yourself,
Comfortable at the moment,

But at least a little worried
As awareness courses through you
That you can’t live more than one tale,

One era at birth, one manner
And time of death, and yet you are
One massive host of many small

Tales coursing through you, moving on
Relentlessly, and if wind’s gone
From where you are now, it goes on.