When people tell you life is work

do listen
and know that there is always
the time at the table
carving back
to show what is there

but notice also who travels
with your hand as it uncovers
the wood, the words – mystery
the bird flees south,
the leaves swirl north.
Your body is science.

You have researched the dark
matter of inception. You believe
the star’s blowout black hole.
Mystery does not hide
in these explanations, it is loud
in the moving from one ground

to a colder one and then back
again to spring. All along,
this sibling of science
lays bare in the minute creased between
your life and that of your parents, between
your life and that of your child. 

And on this winter day, this new year
be reassured that your mind continues
to deduce, but more determinedly, be delighted
that this same mind is made, remade
to hold mystery – a speckled enamel pot
surrounded by fire.