Imagine hiking into a redwood forest
smelling flowers extinct for four thousand years
imagine standing under towering, blooming white clouds
as they pelt the desert, pound the hard dirt
and after, the air fills with antique insects
flying from the newborn swamp
 
Imagine driving to the coast, traveling
overland to come to hills, dry, brown, parched
and you come over the highest one
to see the blue sea, to feel your gills move
heaving some fish desire into your chest
seeking salt, smelling ancient voyages
as you linger languid beneath a new sun
 
And imagine the crystal palace
that was your cave in the last ice age
that was the home where you learned
to honor the sacred ordinary
where you breathed deep prayer
lugging water and firewood up
into that dark smudge of faith
 
The stars listen, hushed by their children
as the ice forms on micro planets
as the steam rises from old volcanoes
and dinosaurs rest in rock, waiting the time
when they will be asked to explain their patience
 
Will the universe
remember
what we chose to do?