Traveling in the Astronaut

 We travel in our body, a rocket

with velocity of 67,062 miles per hour,

feverishly adjusting dials, monitoring life support,

imagining in our fragile cockpit that—

—we are standing still in a wooded glade

while around us leaves drift down and

we say, Thank God for Dappled Things

and then walk on, pondering the impermanence of life

and the good smell of leaf mould.

Meteorlike, it hits us that we have course

corrections to make, and calculations

to double-check, and a crew, and

a destination—

—but a brown bird whistles while we

shuffle through golden mounds.

Bounding deer startle us into

motionless delight.

And all the time glowing numbers

track a steady countdown as our spaceship

continues its relentless journey

toward the center.

Toward home.