Golden shafts of light
Strike the dappled floor
I know reactions of Helium made them
But I don’t know how
I’ll study chemistry on Monday

Tall, valiant trees
Reach for the sky
I know they funnel water to their crowns
But I don’t know how
I’ll learn about hydrodynamics on Tuesday

Tiny, little birds spout
Fountains of soothing strains
I’ve heard they have specially shaped throats
But I don’t know why
I’ll start bird-watching on Wednesday

Calmly rippling water shows me
Impressionist abstractions
I’ve heard that light reflects off the surface
But I don’t know how
I’ll study optics on Thursday

Blossoming flowers are
Maidens’ skirts turned on end
I know they bend to face the sun
But I don’t know why
I’ll examine biology on Friday

People sedately find their way
And an unhurried peace
I know they’re “getting away from it all”
But I don’t know why—or how
I’ll ponder psychology on Saturday

But on Sunday, none of that
Will matter to the Universe
Somehow I already know that the millennia
Have changed nothing
And eons have altered little

In the end humans keep living,
Flowers keep blooming, water keeps painting,
Birds keep singing, trees keep growing,
And light still tumbles through space.