So chilly here this morning, though it’s June,
I fire up the fireplace. I know
it will be warm inside this afternoon,
but want to practice yoga now – the flow
and pose and breath will make this body go
more flexibly, and lubricate my mind
as well as tendons. Standing in the glow
of flame, hot yoga here is my own kind.
I’m still digesting lunch from yesterday.
This processing is not about the food.
I spent the time exposed to a display
of fundamental blinded attitude.
The stories heard served only to convey
restricted sight and plot ineptitude.
I marveled what was then is still what is,
relieved I never linked my life to his.
Of late I find it’s easier to walk
a little longer not desiring rest.
I say it here, cause I don’t want to talk
to friends unless I hear sincere request.
To speak about my health there’s no behest,
but I’ll record a hint I’m doing well.
Is stamina resulting from the vest?
That makes some sense, but it’s too soon to tell.
It’s odd how often people I know well
describe and criticize peculiar traits
they find in others, which they’d like to quell,
but miss the obvious that implicates.
The selfsame qualities which in them dwell
enable recognition. Wisdom waits,
and I’ll bet I don’t have immunity.
I’ll concentrate that criti-scope on me.
Loquacious as a child and a teen,
and even in her 20’s, more than less,
she spoke her mind, aloud, and didn’t mean
offense, but also wouldn’t self-suppress.
She learned some modulation as she aged,
externally at least, and grew to know
how bootless is a war of words that’s waged
without celebrity, without a show.
By 60, she disdained futility –
she listened more – if anyone could learn,
she thought it might be self, and silently
she tried to comprehend more, and discern.
A decade later, with her years indulged,
she thinks her odd ideas might be divulged.
Selecting carefully among the foods
available amid voracious kids,
and co-existing with some attitudes
delusional and maybe on the skids,
no discontent or hot complaint intrudes.
I move and sleep enough. What here forbids,
forestalls, or forms will end in half a day,
when I’m at home and primed for solo play.
Considering a flag or banner placed
upon a wall or on a window pane,
it signifies a welcome where embraced
a fellow’d be, distinguished from the main
conveyance of connection to a mast
that serves as call to rally round and sing,
to follow into battle or keep fast
a fortress, palisade or shelter ring.
By contrast, if an amulet or charm
is put to use, in pocket or around
the body, it’s a private bar to harm,
or maybe clues a fortune to be found.
Attracted more to solo than a crowd,
I’ve yet to find a charm that makes me proud.
Two quarter hours sitting in the sun
today, away from home and every chore,
I processed stillness as a sort of fun,
and felt I needn’t ask for any more.
But I was with a relative who’s one
I like to visit. And I also knew
the only act remaining to be done
was lunch of wine and ahi, with this view.
I bid the kids to photo what they took
from chugging gently on this slope today.
The five of us were seated for a look
at Hood and its environs. I’ll convey
some words, but they could try to make a book
of this experience. I want to say
the trip was passing excellent and fine,
but I’ve imbibed about two cups of wine.
Like any animal, I note what moves.
No matter if it’s predator or prey,
attention’s caught by motion and behooves
at least alertness. Mostly I obey,
but evolution sometimes disimproves,
and veers from wisdom’s route so far away,
I am resisting instinct’s pattern, till
I reap the good of seeing what is still.
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