Fragments

Turning the earth, you find fragments
of fractional size
and no archaeological weight,
but speaking, or seeking, a story.

With stones remaining silent,
animal remains – not known to us
what or whether they recall –
recount tales
in language lost to us.

With the humus then,
humans remain the touchstone,
the trigger for recollection.

In wonder, awe or anger,
and sometimes simply sadness
at the transitory
ticking of time
towards the heavens,
we lay bare
the earthbound remnants
of our forbears.

And on this dig,
unwittingly we expose
and capture a trove,
a mine of magic moments
or scarring seconds,
only given meaning
and fleeting fearsome feeling
by our tiny minds.

Needing no language,
they too will soon be
fragments or ashes,
but either way
earthbound,
and forever turning.