The Earths Long Turning Poem by Patti Masterman

Inherited bodies, marked by vanished ancestry,

the subtle twisting of DNA strands that none remember,

for there is no witness left to the inheritance.


Though you sport some lost-to-time grandmother's noted eyes,

there is no photo now to compare them to,

and though you might play piano like a long ago relation,

no one today recalls those notes.


There are people feel compelled to save every scrap;

dated love letters and college keep-sakes,

searching for their oldest sense of belonging

like we daily follow patterns of weather.


They weight them with importance,

The self assigns value systems unrelated

To what they once were, or if they mattered to many-

Or only a few- for self idolizes and personifies the past,


Never suspecting everything repeats over again,

while thought just a novelty; recessive genes;

something new or never before seen-

We the ephemera, of the earths long turning.