The Earth Below

We turn. We spin. But don’t feel it within.

A sidereal day four minutes short of the solar type.

But I can’t feel it moving, though I know that it does,

1,040 miles per hour giving any boy-racer a buzz.

I’m looking at my feet but I can’t see them move

Yet apparently they are whizzing around and around.

Gravity is my best friend as he keeps me in place

To save me from hurtling way off into space.

Another force wants to spin me away from this land

But happily gravity is stronger but I don’t understand,

For if the Earth below my sandals failed to spin round

I would weigh more than I do now by just the odd pound.

So I will just take my chances and praise the earth for its spin,

It appears it might be the only way I will ever stay slim.

The earth below is doing it’s best to keep me from weighing more

Delivering me from a rotational saddle sore.

I look at my feet, eyes searching the earth below

How does it happen? Does anyone really know?

By Linda Prince