I spent years measuring microclimates.
Light intensity, moisture, soil
And air temperatures. Wind speed
And the density of grasses per square metre.
Told my students they could hold
A thousand microclimates
In the palm of their hand; like pinheads.
And if they zoomed in, there would be
A million beneath the belly
Of a strawflower. A whole universe
Between grains of beach sand and
The unsung ecology of the oceans.
We only see an average. The sum
Of all things added up and divided
By ignorance and the greed of humanity.
The bed of nails, we sleep on.
As one is pulled away the others sink deeper.
Until only one is left. Painlessly
Piercing the heart. A slow death realized Only when the lungs stop breathing.
Dan Murphy is an educator, author, and poet who lives in Newfoundland and Labrador. His poetry has appeared in journals, anthologies and online in Canada, the US, Ireland and Great Britain.