When o’er the earth I see them rise,
By meters, bluegreen, through the skies,
With their flanks, my spirits climb
By ten million years at a time—
Back to the churning of great continents,
Which joining, birthed—the earth was bent—
These gentle gods, which wrinkled, stand,
As watchful guardians of this land,
Who from their bodies, bleeding, built,
The East Coast, from the sea, by silt,
Across three thousand thousand centuries
Which link a trilobite and me—
My chest grows tight, my vision blurs,
And in my soul, an eon stirs.

            Dedicated to Tracy Cameron, 7/18/1968 – 2/5/2017