The physics of favourable harvests
Lies itself in an gyroscopic tilt
(And surface heating to boot)
We barely notice;
Dreaming forever to escape the cyclical dizziness by
Tending the falling rain of leaves
Sweeping up their excited turbulence
While noticing spectra of visible light
Entering eyes without a trace
This sound, the vibration of mere air
Churning itself in a low-humming harmonic
To which trained minds can see;
Plucking undulations out of faceless data
Despite many rubbish ideas in our heads.
There is hope just yet,
Some days away until this House
This passage of time.
A river of life
Runs through the psyche:
The world whirls around the head
As the operatic chemical play
Exchanging electrons like a circular waltz
Photons darting from one molecule to another
Communicating all day long...
And humming during the night.