Book Cliff

The cliff spills all its worlds
Down one side, from sand grains
To mansion-sized boulders,

From wisps of grass to trunks
Of grand, uprooted pines.
Where did you mean to go

When you first saw the cliff,
And thought, maybe a poem?
Daughter’s getting ready

To spend the afternoon
At the bookstore, meaning
She intends to look good.

Decades have wandered by
Since the last time you browsed
Shelves meaning to look good.

You’ll settle for pain-free,
Your daughter’s company,
New books to browse or read.

You check the time, glance up
At the enormous cliff.
There’s no rush to finish

This or any other thought—
From the base of the cliff
You can witness the mind

Advancing on the world
As clearly as you can
See it crawl through bookshelves.