Spaces between
You fill in pebbles
between the rocks,
sand between the pebbles,
dust between the grains of sand.
Somewhere in there, grassroots find purchase,
and sip water from the corridors that twist and wind.
The pocket spaces.
Should you pour the finest dust,
shake it down, tamp it in,
til you can’t pry a particle from the compacted mass,
still, it’s more empty than not.
Below, beyond, and deep inside the layers available to seeing,
each mote of matter holds its ground against all others,
preserving the preponderance of void,
which being only shapes and structures.
Silence cradles sound; stillness enfolds motion.
We have not run out of room
in the spaces between.
(c) Sarah Morehouse 2009
