So, slowly I paint rocks for several days,
Building the texture, modulating greys,
Until Achmelvich’s sheep strewn crag appears
Clothed with stiff grasses, wind bent bouncing ears.
But you have started several billion years
Before my flat, pathetic, instant fix.
There is the era before molecules,
Space sprung gigantic galaxies evolve,
Slow without form and void throughout the earth.
Then, even slower, rocks as treacle bake
With crystals set in granite, lost to sight,
And buried to mature three billion years.
So shrinks our human quick fix arty stuff
Before the glory of your slow, worked craft.