A Million New Stories

The light shifts between waves and dust

in the middle of each sentence,

like so many things are happening in this moment.

A leaf spirals slowly, softly, from its branch

and prayer beads trickle all over the earth somewhere

with many things happening.

The clouds are parted by manmade things

and so many things are happening as salt spirals into unseen vortexes within the seas.

You can watch a bit of snow be transformed into new waves

while grass bends itself to the dew on its crown,

feeling like too many things are happening.

A slug dries its feet out over sand, meanwhile,

wrapped in large arms, a baby human has their first laugh,

the many happenings we know and never perceive and

someone else is redefining themself in their world

just as the sun spills its warmth all over the skin.

Many things are happening here.

A piece of brick is laid with its kin(d),

a fist finds its way into the air, and another into a smug face.

All the many things are happening,

even in that new page being written into a story