No trees have to fall,
Noise or not. No lives
Have to dig up holes.
On its own, earth flows.
Put it in a lab
In a great, neat pile
Too low to slide down,
And still it will slide.
Of course the slide’s slow.
But on it will go.
You don’t need to poke
At it or shift it.
Just let the dirt sit,
And it starts to move.
This has been well proved.
Grains of the world stir,
Then slip by. And yet
It moves, gains a new
Sense from such slow glides,
And we have to ask,
If waves of thought plan
And can mean things, and
Waves of light throw shades,
What of waves of sand?
