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SPECULATIVE POETRY
On Silurian Shores
Time is as fluid as the inland sea
Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present…
– T. S. Eliot, “Burnt Norton”
On Silurian shores
following tracks preserved in shale
laid down hundreds of millions of years ago,
prints of a four-limbed prehistoric animal
crossing an ancient mudflat
Cold mist hugs the ground as I walk
sky hangs heavy with patches of brilliance
I catch a whiff of salt from primordial seas
the tracks in the shale disappear…
and reappear as a single biped
I follow the impressions into a basin with
a shallow inland sea. Farther out is smooth
and shimmers in yellow light. As I walk
the shale grows tacky and moist,
caking on my feet. I remove socks and boots
The horizons hover soft and reflective
time falls on me like a weight
a strange pressure builds behind my eyes.
Looking back, my bare footprints
are the only ones crossing…
