Stretched beyond any story,
outside of organic memory.
Time lives without passing.
It’s life: a slow definition
of measure in stain.
When I was young
I saw a bright
yellow lichen near the sea.
I wanted to lick it
to sense and to taste it.
This bright, lives there still.
Yellow as gorse flower
orange as rust.
Lichen covers our world.
On the ISS they
breathed the vacuum
and survived.
One day they will
turn Mars yellow.
Then:
On a clear night
you may see
a lichen star.
©️ Dai Fry 5th May 2020.