Our Host the Sun

 

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.