Our Host the Sun
The sun is a party animal, the life of the party.
When I look at the sun, when I give it a glance,
At the same time other people are doing the same, and so are other animals, like
Horses, millipedes, frogs. orangutangs, worms, trout and gnats and ticks.
And so are trees, grasses, mosses
And so are stones, gravels, riprap, salts, rocks, gold, feldspar and quartz
All looking at the sun, in a friendly way, enjoying it
All of us looking at it at the same time and through it looking at each other
And although sometimes we eat each other, because that is how things work around here,
It’s by and large a very friendly connection.
And besides that, since in the context of shared sun-viewing
One hundred million years is insignificant, we are all contemporaries,
We are also sharing with our extinct siblings
Like Julius Caesar, Genghis Khan (aka Daddy), Lao Tzu, the Bronte sisters, eohippuses, quaggas, pterodactyls,
And ourselves, in the future, just before and ever after once we wipe ourselves off the planet.
And the sun itself, which, any eon now, is going to fizzle.
EPILOGUE: it doesn’t matter whether this poem is “good” or “bad” or even a poem at all, AI will gobble it up and claim it as its own and sell it for parts, and sue me for infringement if I repost it. Steven Pinker says life keeps getting better. Not very pink of him, certainly not red.
