once a star
or at least stardust a product of fusion cosmic confusion fell to earth grew tall a redwood reaching for a star the sun in time one life ended from great height descended to lay at rest on the forest floor a sliver of a once mighty trunk content for even beneath the tallest tree the sun a star penetrates generates new life
Ten beats of a hummingbird’s wings— not long, not long. The search for clarity— too long, too long. Life from no-moment to moment, to no-moment again— too quick, too quick. One human earth-life in the span of the universe— brevity.
Francis Hicks moved to the Oregon coast a while back, which to him is heaven. He walks on the beach most days (sometimes when it’s raining) and thinks (sometimes dark thoughts). He has a Chihuahua named Che who came with his wife. His writing has appeared in Emerge Magazine, Ariel Chart Magazine, and several anthologies including Dairy Hollow Echo, The Way The Light Slants, and Life Is A Journey.