Geological Time

Its clock has no hands, no stem, no pendulum.

Our geological clock
has no hands,
no numbers,
nothing designating
seconds, minutes or hours.

Its face
is our natural landscape
and it marks time
using spires
and fins stacked up 
at places like Canyonlands….

By the majesty
of formations 
like Delicate Arch
and the artistry 
of Looking Glass Rock
and the vibrant glow
of the red rock walls
and sharp ridges
surrounding Moab.

Delicate Arch in Arches National Park near Moab, Utah.

The clock 
has no chimes,
other than 
occasional claps of thunder
created by jagged bolts
of lightening 
on the horizon,
echoing for miles around.

It delineates eons
by the sandwiched layers 
of salt and sandstone
left behind 
and the deep, meandering gorges
revealed millions of years ago
by the receding sea.

Little remains 
of the sea 
that once covered this land,
other than the muddy ribbons
of the Colorado and Green rivers
flowing through opposite sides
of this expanse
before they meet 
at their confluence.

The gorge and red rock walls at Canyondlands National Park near Moab, Utah.

The clock has no pendulum
nor stem to wind it,
no cord to plug it in
for it’s a perpetual machine
powered by a cool morning breeze
that gives way, slowly,
to the warmth 
of the desert sun
that keeps it running
into the evening
when the wind picks up
strong enough
to power it through the night
and make any tent 
sound like 
it’s coming apart
or look like 
a pounding heart.

No, this clock 
has no springs 
or ratchets, 
no hammers 
no brackets,
no intricate flirts,
or lugs, pallets or crutches,
no barrels or wheels,
no balances or weights.

It’s not mechanical,
it's ethereal,
gauging our stewardship
rather than our punctuality.