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.