It never switches off; even asleep
We listen in to gravity itself.
Crossing a field is one long exercise
in equilibrium - a player’s grace -
though what we mean by that
has more to do
with music
than the physics we imagine.
A history of forest and the murk
of oceans, nice
adjustments
in the memory of bone
lead us to this: the gaze;
the upright form.
Lemur and tree-shrew linger in the spine
becoming steps; a track worn in the grass;
A moment’s pause
before the rain moves in.
John Burnside
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-inner-ear/
