Perpetual Motion
Rest.
Machine.
More reflection than a surface.
Three orbs of chrome,
caressed by axes with a pivot.
A rod, extensor, for each dome.
Like the H in H2O,
the molecule you know.
Purpose manent,
moment in.
Just
the lightest
touch upon the very edge
can make them spin.
Like a living Y
they gyre.
Left and right and right and left.
Hidden magnets repel and compel
as the spheres aspire.
But not forever.
Slower, slower,
gentle as a bubble blower,
growing slower,
slowing,
shudder.
Rest.