Moments
I think of quiet moments
Of silent moments
Of moments within moments
Most every moment
I think of the ways
The space
And span
Of time
Are held within
These precious moments.
I listen for the well concealed
Silence
That echoes
At the center
Of time.
I pay close attention
To the way the squirrel walks
To the wood thrushes
Fluteful song.
I have to be alive
To be held
In silent moments
Of presence.
I have to hear
The beating
Of my heart
And witness my blood
Pump
Like the vibration
Of the cicadas song.
I have to feel
My lungs
Full with the breeze that blows
The waves of the water
Up on the shore.
Words
Fail to represent
That which I experience
In the quiet moments
In the moments within the moments
I think about.