Today's poem is In Geologic Time by Valerie Lawson. It is read by Samaa Abdurraqib.
In Geologic Time
You hear the falls before you see them,
like a high wind sweeping through pine and fir.
Water cascades over the rock ledge, eddies swirl
on the surface, kapskuk, Passamaquoddy
for this place of boiling water anglicized to Cobscook.
Here wind and water are verbs, earth the object.
In geologic time, the terrain is new, shaping
and shaped. How does this land not break?
As we navigate the trail, there is something
about the tree roots underfoot, the knuckling hold
in the thin soil of the rocky ledges, the bleached bones
of a weathered cedar arcing gracefully, a final
arabesque before tumbling onto the shingle beach.
Each falling tree releases itself to the next generation:
nest snag, nurse log, seedling compost.
It is all connected, trees, water, wind, the rock we stand on,
the seals working the seams of water for fish, loons
in the lane beyond, we are all stitched together, convened
within the cupped hands of a protected space
holding the beating heart of this tidal engine.
The pack-in pack-out trail embraces a quiet cove.
The online comments encourage you to return,
to understand differently, to bring a picnic.
High and low tides change things. So do light and season.
There is nothing here to take away but contemplation,
your sense of wonder renewed. Dogs and kids welcome, too.