Time’s Subtle Movement
by Odin Roark

A mail boat hydroplanes along the coast,
carrying a single letter.

Tiny island shoreline sits seemingly idle.

Clouds gather,
skies darken,
dolphins cease jumping,
flotsam hugs wet sands.

Like a bleached leaf entangled in the yolk
of ancient driftwood antlers,
old dry newspaper headline holds fast;
"Manned Spacecraft Lands On Mars."

A single palm shades a pre-war colonial house,
the island's sole resident.

Threadbare cargo-shorts
hang limply on emaciated hips,
held up by aged leather tool belt.

Artist looks skyward,
pulls welding helmet down,
eyes peering through ocean-spotted lens
as solar panel energy
sparks welding torch.

Final stringer bead.

Hot pass.

Filler pass.

Cover pass.

Complete.

Artist raises head upwards as
two-story lightning bolt of welded iron,
secured in buried concrete pedestal,
casts fading shadows
as its waning reflection foretells
the impending weather.

Stepping backward off platform,
Artist lifts helmet,
assesses work.

Pointing eastward
like a rocket ready for count down,
the artist's passion readies its imaginary travel.

Instinct awakens…

There is menace riding wind and wave...
crisis coming.

Hovercraft arrives.
Its mini-hover comes ashore,
extending its robotic arm delivering a letter.
Artist sits and stares at envelope.

The sea suddenly becomes weary.
A nervous seagull lands on sculpture,
drops a white calling card.
Artist smiles.

Giant tortoise lumbers up,
settles beside artist,
head peeking out,
retreating,
waiting.

From his pocket,
artist lifts bark of coconut,
places in front of shell,
pleasure readily exercises a quick bite.

He glances back at envelope.

Embossed letterhead looks important.
“Fathoms Deep Collider Project.”
He opens.
"Tsunami Alert - Testing to begin on September 23rd"

He looks over at turtle,
up at sculpture,
out to sea,
"3 months---not much time."

The artist lies beside the turtle.
The seagull comes alongside, folding it wings beneath.
Looming over this collective presence,
the lightning bolt catches a break-through beam of sunlight,
its blinding reflection encasing the three.

Nothing moves.

The turtle finally adjusts itself.

The Seagull blinks.

Pocketing the letter, the artist smiles.
The sun’s protection, time’s subtle movement,
mirrors another small piece of life…
about to change.