The Sand Hill Review http://www.sandhillreview.org 2005

Invented by the Night

The stork was born from the soft mud.

The fullness first was entirely empty.

Time

grew slowly out of timelessness.

Light came

without thinking from a rip in the dark,

the void above and the void below

from a crease in the once-whole void.

Every time I speak

I begin by listening.

The shrew mole

never asked to be born,

nor the potato bug

who finds her mate so beautiful.

I suppose it never was

easy,

but we owe so much

to what is done without hands or eyes.

I live for the day,

yet the day

and I

were invented

by the night.

Len Anderson