The air’s entrails

The air’s entrails scatter throughout

the entire body of earth’s matter,

settling snug on the shoulder of a bug,

bitten by the wind’s pressing whip,

force enough to crack an acorn for a squirrel,

rustle down a collage of leaves, ripened fruits,

hollow honeycomb or feather bedding.

So powerful and provoking, yet providing free transport

to seeds, pollen, pheromones and water droplets.

Marathon miles may not be difficult as the crow flies,

riding on open currents of the atmosphere,

lofty perspective where the sun never sleeps

and nothing but the sky towers over pin-head specks.

The significance of scale has lost its purpose in the clouds,

reference points useless in an ever changing panorama.

What weight have we here, what substance, what mass

without the heart, stomach, direction and path?

About tyler4turtles

I am an avid photographer, poet, ecologist, bookworm, blogger, art enthusiast and runner who calls Montana home but lives in Oregon.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to The air’s entrails

  1. dulzimordash says:

    Reblogged this on Nature’s Abhorred Vacuum.

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