On the top edge of my iPad
a mountain sits in monumental stillness,
as if motion was frozen at its core,
and would remain so forevermore.
Taking a picture suddenly
becomes a serious business:
At the bottom of the screen
I see my toes flexing
their tiny history,
dwarfed by 300 million years of the earth’s throes,
subdued to strata, the mountain’s mega load.
Is this the past’s most reliable witness?
What upheavals are still to come?
Will its rock-of-ages silence be
shattered by a meteoric thump?
Or a nuclear war waged by