we learn of lithosphere
and crust, continental plates
alive and slipping still
in echoes of creation
we name ages
and periods of rock
count layers
like rings in a tree
but stone
and slower growing
than plant exuberance;
she has time
to lay down this veneer
in perfect hardness
geology: how old
the earth is
a question
not for me to ask
innocent of carbon dating
she is here before us
and after us
that stone mother
molten
around a solid heart
whose hold on us
is tender
but absent
whose shadow
cradles dreaming
and shows us stars
but whose shifts
tear continents
from stone shelves
and whose shrugs
raise mountains
she is primal force
mostly asleep
dangerous to wake her
Susan Daniels Poetry 