My Little Home

poem by: John Prophet
Written on Nov 04, 2016 

The universe above my head massive in size with spinning galaxy’s and exploding stars.
I sit in my little home warm being content.
None of that really bothers me.
I got up to adjust my blinds and see the birds in the bird-feeder.
Beautiful day the sun shining bright.
The sun a raging furnace above my head.
I’m just far enough away that I’m not bothered.
The sun issues cosmic storms sending massive amounts of radiation aim right at my head.
I take a walk in the woods enjoying the day not worried about such things. I know mother Gia has a force field that pushes that away.
Our little home barely a mote in space, lost in the vastness of the universe made perfect some how.

 

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Geoffrey Brewer commented:
The miracle of this Goldilocks world, statistically improbable, but seeming so ordinary, well expressed.

 

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