Enga mellom fjella

Quarry trip

Quarry trip


The chalky seas teemed with crustaceans
and diatoms swam in bathic channels
the shallow pans rising, falling, filling in
with debris, with mud, with grit, with vegetation,
what was living left remains,
layer upon layer.


As a kid, you came with your granddad:
looked up at grey rock,
dark shale, pale limestone, the bones
of a distant Age
buried among the glint of quartz
you collected.


You come back with your grandchildren.
The elder seeking gems by the path,
among wreckage of the quarry's old blasts,
your youngest climbing up on a ledge,
then shouting with glee,
"I found a fossil".


You examened the prize
and imagined the trilobites
digging those warm shallow seas
above the bones of their ancestors,
how they lay buried beneath generations of offspring
until that day.


You promised the children
next time you'd take them
when you visit your grandparents' grave,
teach them the lessons of human stratigraphy,
show them where to plant you
someday.


© Kåre Enga 2008 [164.501] 2008-02-07

IMAGES:

Corn chaff glinting in the sunlight, motes wafted on a breeze. The grain mill humming through its organ-pipe towers. (a Kansas symphony)

Pearled tapioca, green, pink and white rolling around the tongue, gluing themselves to the inside of cheeks, the milk and egg custard pumpkin spice sweet.

ME:

Like ... I have a whole bunch of things to do today. Like ... I'm going to choose a couple and leave the rest go. Like ... I should apologize for just not having the resources nor energy to do more? I have to let go of my guilt. Say no.

I perk up on sunshiny days, but in the winter I like to be inside looking out. It's cold today and if I go downtown I may have a long cold walk home. These are the choices to make.

Kansas: 19º, sunny but chilly.

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