Geology time.

Down to earth from a different place. All culture shocked and awed. Trembling, buzzing still, a stomachfull of that other world's supper. Overhead reminders soar on, contrails and pirouettes. Down here, reality creeps in, the heavy cloak of familiar ruts, calendar items and expectations. And yet, an airy remembrance lingers, patient sheep, an infinite loop of craic, timeless stone and hedge, where kisses were stole by thorn and berry, when God was king. Geology time this is, where we're the blink in an ache slow world of change, a gracious degradation, a sloth history of harvest strife and spreadsheet errors. Waking up on the other side of the bed, on the other side of the world, the familiar feels foreign, feels weightless. Numb again, cloughering.