A Sunday poem in praise of stones

And a look at what's on deck

As many know, 2023 saw a very alarming heat spike that scientists are still trying to understand. It’s been referred to as the 2023 Heat Anomaly, but I (among others) have noticed another anomaly—that in the official investigation of the cause, and reporting on that investigation, there is no consideration of living things or systems. That is, land change, otherwise known as environmental destruction, understood for decades to be a key human driver of climate change, was completely absent from the analysis. Why? And what are the risks and consequences of continuing to leave the biosphere out of climate? I’m currently exploring the matter and hope to have a report to share with you in a few days.

In the meantime, here is a brief poem about stones, with the suggestion that there’s more to a stone than meets the eye. It’s Sunday, a good day to take a break from the worries of the world and spend a little time with its wonders.

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Beach Stones

time bones
wave thrown
	
	little rolling mumbles
                        under tidal considerations
      and reconsiderations.
	     
No one asks them anything.

		*

Stones hold a language
	older than bones
a secret language
             with vowels made of silence
consonants hard as truth.

Put a bin of them
     outside the convenience store:
“4 for a dollar. Always in season.”

Or send one out in a FedEx truck
    in a square sided box.

When it comes back, slice the tape
unfold the crisp, cardboard planes:

	there it is
contained and sufficient
dense with time
and the dark knowing 
        of matter
yet fresh as light.

		*

Ask it anything.

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