m u r r e y' s m i l l
A dam provides this mill a near continuous
supply of energy to power its waterwheel.
Long ago people discovered they could use gravity,
water falling onto paddles, to turn heavy stone
and grind grain into flour, like a windmill.
Imagine a waterwheel big enough to power Las Vegas.
You'd need a dam about seven hundred feet tall
then fill it near full with the Colorado River.
Now turn the water wheel on its side and
encase this idea into a high-tech turbine.
Open the tap and provide a high voltage
extension cord to turn night into day
on the Strip. We're grinding out neon.
A falling object delivers energy.
An apple bounces off Isaac Newton's head.
What's it to you, right?
Imagine the power of ten oxen turning
your millstone, not just one... twenty-four hours a day.
Continuous power you don't have to feed and baby.
Cause its water, water everywhere
ready for more than drink.
The physical realm in rustic garb.
All things hard we call solids,
free-flowing water is liquid and
our ever present atmosphere is a gas.
The molecular phases of Earth.
Appearing just above the lip of the dam
are trees. They represent the remarkable
molecular state of persistent, self-directed animation.
We call each instance of this phenomenon a cell.
Spillway with clinging moss.
Spillway with aesthetics.
Consciousness of purpose beyond its expiration date.
Everything about this wasp has a purpose
involving survival here on Earth.
There's the familiar hardened shell to protect
the animal's nutrient distribution system
and various resource processing centers.
We've got legs and wings as a means of
getting about. You see the big eyes and antennae.
All the senses are here, letting the brain know
the nature of its existence. Picture a mind,
root ball size of a nose hair,
having to make sense of a flood of
on / off type neural impulses.
These specialized nerve cells together
analyze this streaming jumble of zeros and ones
and delivers to a physically derived consciousness -
you - the panorama known as life in the physical realm.
Summer is gone for the wasp.
on / off type neural impulses.
These specialized nerve cells together
analyze this streaming jumble of zeros and ones
and delivers to a physically derived consciousness -
you - the panorama known as life in the physical realm.
Summer is gone for the wasp.
Tree living on flat rock with roots grasping,
probing for an opening to nutrients found mostly in soil.
Trees at Baker Creek competing for prime real estate -
the sun-drenched highlands of the upper canopy.
Think of each trunk as a wildcatter's pillar
drilling skyward for energy gold.
Down among the shaded plants
you're likely to succumb to
the appetite of a roaming deer.
Fungus.
Athlete's Foot on a Tree.
Menu item found at four star restaurants.
This fungus has re-engineered plant tissue
into a nursery housing its next generation.
However robbers are afoot.
They've penetrated the walls and are
currently feasting on fungal young.
No remorse. Just add a tad of salt
and keep the yolks runny.
Time to stuff that drafty old twig nest with dead leaves.
Cold weather in the offing.
Florida snowbirds not.
Unless the pond freezes over
this klatch will likely winter
in their home town range.
Unless the pond freezes over
this klatch will likely winter
in their home town range.
Great Blue Heron presiding.
love
dad
© Tom Taylor
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