Sun washes back of neck.
Is the first meal the silence or the exhaling?
Through the narrow sightline
shimmer of silver
rises on dark water.
Breath reinvents the moment.
Scent-of-all-things-love.
Openness of crown.
Already lost count!
Stretch legs in solitude.
Who is here to be offended?
No one is watching.
I return to noticing.
Heavy branch, dead,
fallen on the stream
is now dormitory for insects.
School in samsara
is year-round.
While my head spins
cawing of raven:
every sitting is unique.
Just now I heard the woman across
the fence singing
a snippet of Amazing
Grace. What good
are bodies if we can’t
let them go?
5/17/20