The Moth Goes Around

With new glasses I see the cobwebs
in my cabin, dust I only smelled
before, a moth flittering to dark places
in the printer, curious messages

crawling across the television screen.
Knowing evolutionary biology humbles
the path leading here, astronomical
physics troublizes the road ahead,

today's an egg learning about scrambled,
sunny-side-up, three-chili omelet.
Galileo puts two lenses together
to better see the River of Stars,

he puts away the glass but his thinker
never forgets the proposition,
knowledge that shoves orbits
out of round. I sit in the rocker

with my eyes closed and my thinker
remembers the moth going around the cabin.
The egg takes off its glasses, but it never forgets
which part of the chicken it comes from.