The hawk turns in widening circles high against the cerulean sky
Eyes downcast; a shadow counting time as it passes.
The axis always moving.
Car wheels spin past, never escaping their orbit
while the world unspools beneath their axles.
Their hubs flashing in the sun.
I walk these streets, turning back upon myself
My thoughts returning to points behind me
while the future pushes past like a river.
The sun continues its arc across the sky
The night rolling up behind it, a gaping mouth
pursuing the radiant host from east to west.
How many revolutions does it take to change the world around me?