The sea shifts
and the wind and the sand,
such polyrhythms — this earthly agitation —
among the billion stars and stray planets
stretching out multitudes of light years, plowing
into the on-and-on emptiness, searchlighting.
How such a restless mess could pause
long enough to hammer out the blueprint of a cell,
then multiply it, add flagella, flippers, fins,
gills, lungs, the whole gamut of sensoria, is beyond me.
But I admire the unfailing desire to crawl out.
Above the sea, blustered about,
gannets circle and rise and arc across the sky,
fold in their wings and plummet —
bright white darts piercing the slate-green
roiling waves. Such a gorgeous,
splattering response, this
syncopated wing-dip and rise
of body and heart,
inhale and exhale
of pure hungering after.