Poetry: Now they tell us

Now they tell us that old earth is
wobbling. While all this time
I've thought it is my shoe, my worn,
uneven sole, my rundown heel,
that causes my listing life.

But no, it is the moon, they say,
or sun, or seas that tug,
that hug the earth that push
each one of us off kilter;
so we lean, we tilt, we stumble
as we walk our garden paths
from stone to stone,
from here to there, and
wonder at the slant.

So it's the pull of moon, they say,
or sun, or that salt water
in our veins that sloshes as we walk,
that tosses us in tidal waves,
or nudges us in ripples running
dawn to evening's end,
to where the moon-the sun-the sea
all hug the earth
and all trajectories blend.

And yet I wonder if they're right
Or if it's that my sole is simply worn
or my shoelaces pulled too tight
or that my garden path has overgrown
with toxic weeds that life has strewn
and day has drifted into night.

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Grayce Scholt is a retired English professor from Mott College who wrote art reviews for the Flint Journal. Her book of poetry, Bang! Go All the Porch Swings, is available online from Amazon and locally at Pages Bookstore in downtown Flint.