If the world stopped spinning,
You with shallow grips on realty
Would hurl to space, flora and
Fauna: trees, mountain tops,
Cats, mothers, SUV’s, and dirt.

Or the endless day burning on
Would singe sight, burn stars
And the Northern Lights? Out.
The moon, introverted admirer,
Would silently spin out alone.

The earth’s sudden surcease
May clear the planet of drift
And all living slack and softly
Yet we who levitate, risen up,
Afloat on lily pads and dust…

The cosmos cops wave us on.