Movement, Maybe Hydrology.

Movement is
what it does
which often is not much.
The slow-and-languid sand
slides through the hourglass hands
sans any speck of care, as gravity
drags it down
down
down till it
actually is a river
a ribbon of rapids
or a flash flood
in an Incan cave system,
hollowing out the limestone
and carving, deleting away
etched out battle scenes
and pictures of pregnancies,
labor given to my
great great
grandmother
who wore braids
and left her family
to be adventurous and
marry a settler.
Movement is
what it does.
Often it does too much.