Margaret Randall

 Hadron Collider of Imagination

That towering anvil, weather with the power 

to push a flash flood 

between narrow canyon walls

dragging branches and bodies in its path.

Spreading up and out on this horizon

of peaceful sand and sage

against calm blue sky the giant thunderhead 

expands.

Within its fierce mystery shards of ancient pottery

modern wrist watches 

and the prayers of generations

race in a Hadron Collider of imagination.

Letters of a lost alphabet in random disarray

a manatee’s desire

a million sunsets in full bloom

and fruits so rare they have yet to be tasted.

Never doubt its swirling mass hides baby birds,

a coyote’s plaintive song

or the somersaulting questions

of someone in the wrong place at the wrong time.