Nels Hanson’s most recent poem to appear here was “The Kiss” (July 2017)
Lifespan
By Nels Hanson
Unlike the giant land tortoise
of the Galapagos, ancient blue
oyster or huge yellow clam with
fluted double shell, stone wings
that clamp unwary divers’ legs
deep undersea, we’re built to age
what feels too soon, spring and
winter the short year designed
to our close attention. We’d need
a different eye for watch fires of
the sun lit centuries of mornings,
shoulders all calcium rocking
imperceptibly with waves so
far above the tide is legend and
hurricanes old myths. To live
our fair span we’d have to study
to forget a thousand moments
flaring gold among ten million
blades of grass brushed by beaked
profile and flattened by scaled
feet like hooves, disremember
each grain of agonizing sand
growing undiscovered white
and often prized black pearls
that brought no fortune. We’d
learn not to care as much, know
all things come in proper time,
until we understand we’re time,
undisturbed as the moon waning
as it waxes, sure all return to
native size and shape as if they
never altered or moved at all.