The wind brought the smell
Of aspen trees
Down from the Rockies
Clearing the smell of wood smoke
In that town of Arab princes
And Physics institutes
And visiting Tibetan monks.
My father settled his old bones
On the front porch.
“Son”, he said, perhaps knowing
The staleness in my heart,
“Why don’t you go to a lecture at the institute?”
So I walked through the fragrant streets,
As sunset lit the mountains tops
Above the shadowed valley,
To the auditorium crowded with far-seers.
“What is the origin of supermassive black holes?”
“What role does dark matter play in the evolution of galaxies?”
And the staleness blew away with the wood smoke.
My mind wandered across the universe
As I walked home under the starry sky,
Telling my wife, so far away, of my rediscovered awe.
I looked up to see maroon robes
And the gentle face from the posters:
“Hear the Dali Lama speak.”
With my android to my ear,
I smiled.
And he smiled.
As the wind flowed down from the mountains.