Years hear

Sheathed as they are
in names and numbers,
years hear, but listen slow.
Seconds and minutes
(more absent-minded than not)
don’t catch a stone’s turning,
much less what is being said.
Hours and days, over full,
evade their own meaning.
Dull of ear, they seldom hear,
unclear about listening.

Epochs, on the contrary,
turn pages and close books
as if they were stone deaf,
giving a wrong impression.
They catch cycles in drift.
Aeons hear best. Silent
in the still of having been,
having loved, having warred,
peaceful in the marvel
of stars, seas, land, and ocean,
they listen for rebirth.