We believe the world is round. We believe that
When a ship sails out of sight, it keeps on sailing
Without falling off the edge of the planet, along
With the ocean waters ever pouring past the edge,
The world’s meniscus. We believe the astronauts
Who saw the Earth from far, far away, a round
Blue marble spinning in space. We believe even
Though we will never see it for ourselves,
Not with our ordinary eyes. There are many such
Things in the world. Sometimes it takes a distortion,
A lens like the eye of a fish, born to see through murky
Water, to understand the realness of strange truths.
Stand on a fire tower two hundred feet in the air.
Look out on the world like a bird or a god of poetry:
Pick up your camera and find a way to show us
An orange golden forest curving away at the edges
Of our eyes, and in the distance–what is that?
Mountains melting into a sea of navy or teal or
The darkness that beckons dusk to inhale
These curving clouds, pulling them away so that
The golden hour can have a few more minutes
Here, caressing this forest the way fire might
But without destruction, only love. If we blink,
The clouds might pour down over the edges of day.