I Have Long Suspected

Life now is too big for humans to live.

We are not cut out for the enormity

At this velocity

or the next big thing

gunning to mow us down.

Gnats in the gale are we to

the great, great disasters,

or like skaters tripping

on the blades of a too-sharp world.

We may have been best when we dwelt in caves

Or on the open plains.

We watched the coming on of seasons,

the departure of seasons;

counted slow plopping rains,

driving ones, rains broken open by sunshine.

Were we better just watching the way

shadow moves across a beach

or the tide flutters in and away?

Time was we wondered much but knew little.

Beneath the sky,  I have heard, we felt small

so, pointing upward, connected stars like dots

to make the simple archer, dog, and bear.

When we walked at dusk we feared the lion and the fog.

At hungry time, we felt the thrill

of glimpsing berries unexpected

or a sudden school of fish among the shoals.

I have long suspected that we were better then.


— RRC 2017