Prime Time

There’s no end to primes

whole unto themselves:

each a lineage of

longing and action.

17, so lonesome,

seeking other’s eyes.

How different from 7,

gathered firmly in the world

and setting the stage

for 11 to learn its lines

at the edge of self-knowing.

Or 3, fullness embodied,

that blooms at 13,

becomes at 23

and ripens for the first time at 31.

Always there is 1 and its binary 2,

whole from the start,

pure comfort in all that arises.

And why this sudden fondness at 41

and its nearest of kin, 43?

Of course…

they turn new ground,

planting strange seed

for the final fruit

decades away

in prime’s last fling.