I think there are giants outside
Trees with frozen fingers drag their unfeeling claws over my roof
Something clatters, rattles bangs.
The freezing rain has brought them.
Weather carries monsters in its wake.
When humans stay fearfully inside their homes,
Creatures of fancy cavort in the open air.
Wild horses wander
And toss their tangled manes
Outside the Tesla Gigafactory.
One of the largest buildings in the world
Housing the highest technology
A windowless plain white rectangle
Capped with solar panels
Built to withstand earthquakes
Facing down desert heat
A testament to human ingenuity and engineering.
Those who look upon it feel a swell of awe.
This could get us out of the hole
Into which we have dug ourselves.
1.9 million square feet
Of hope for the future.
Birds pass over it as they glide miles
Lizards squeeze shut their eyes, soaking in sun
While horses step slowly forward, nosing the scrubby grass
Immune to the magnificence
Seated at the edge of the wide Nevada desert.
Grass gnawing
Turf tearing
Icon of contentment
Barn born bovine
Hay hungry herd huddler
Placid pie plopper
Unbridled idler
Four stomached, ruminating
Walleyed with wonder
Lowly lowing
Generous giant
Milk making miracle
Butter bringer
Beef behind
Brown like whole wheat
Brown as warm wood
Black like crickets
Black as dark coffee
White like warm quilts
Heavy as full cream
Bracing themselves against the wind
Enjoying each other’s company
They stand, sit, walk in heaps
Hopefully approach you
Tickling tongue nibbling leaves from your open hand
Feed them from your fingers, feel the fine fur
Fuzzy ears focusing
Big wet snouts outsize your palm
Long lashes catch the light
Delicate details
Dense marble eyes, gentility, impossible deep souls
Hollow yet happy
Vacant yet wise
Frost on the window
Fractures the morning into
Confetti colors
The smallest story
Glimpses the universe.
Life gets infinitely smaller
No matter how close you look at it.
Little arcs and blotches,
Tendrils and curlicues.
Every raindrop falls with purpose
Lands with a splat
Leaving a hundred tiny specks
Microscosms of itself.
Sarah D. Silvey 