We Will Never Be as Old as the World

Waxy brown mushrooms grow on either side 
of a stump that used to be an old gumball tree.

LIke many other things we call old, I don't know
how old it really was. So much of this world

has been alive for more than the tiny span
I spool out from one day to the next, and I 

don't even know their names. What 
kind of prayer forms as a seed tuft

borne along by wind, or is caught in a trap 
in the wood? I try to learn one new form of it 

as often as I can: black walnut, sweet wormwood, 
knotweed. Rows of sedge and knee-high grass 

small creatures are so good at navigating. 
We gather and spend, gather and hoard.

A pool collects its patient fund of water,
though it might dry by mid afternoon.