Of Scales And Tails, Feathers And Pebbles And Endless Immeasurables

Time is a hummingbird,
building its nest, laying its eggs,
dipping its beak into flowery deeps;
a shimmering prayer, hovering in the air.

Time is a snake,
sliding over the sand, laying its eggs,
and in some fog-filled fen,
stalking its prey; a writhing dare
slithering into its lair.

But eternity is a lizard,
perched on a rock,
that is old and hard and black -
a four-legged peon,
Time's escort through endless eons.

In an infinitude of sand,
I wondered, could I touch it?
Would it care?
Gently I stretched out my trembling hand.

But the lizard vanished,
into the silent land.
He was gone. Yet, had I almost
touched the flat, dry living hide,
of the stuff of forever?

by Mary Naylor

Other poems of NAYLOR (144)

Comments (4)

Into flowery deeps. Nice work.
A superb write. Very profound thinking. You are indeed a poet worthy of the name. Write on, Mary. As always, Sandra
Mary, dear - I observed the interplay of your dear creatures. I, as a tumbleweed, at the whim of wind, follow their antics across a dry terrain and somehow will converge in your heart. Fine, dear lady, fine. - Joe Carson City, NV
Absolutely Brilliant! Brilliant! Every word spoke of a millinia, a stretch in time, the last strains wrapped up the poem flawlessly. I loved the last two lines. Unbelieveable!