Evolution | Roy Moller
Today I rose as steam escaped
from a church refurbished right up to the roof;
the mossy slates gave away
its age but, yes, it seemed refreshed,
its windows still stained glass canoes
dug out of now-sandblasted stone
stripped of smoke and sorcery
to face the modern age.
This morning I passed the Kelvin
flushed in spate, and all of a rage;
I paced around a polished museum,
squinted as sun from the skylight invaded
cases containing God's own beasts,
matured beyond death, glassy-eyed,
with fabulous beams they'll never see.
At times like these I feel reborn,
at least re-borne through the old swinging doors
and put up for adoption again
to smile for a month till the Mollers
nurture nature and help me evolve.