fighting hard to hold on

if i stop breathing, maybe i’ll hear the hum of bees visiting the apple blossoms across the street while i stand in my kitchen.  the air is motionless.  a welcome heaviness envelopes me.  light floods my being and lifts me, but i fight hard to hold on to the heavy feeling.

there’s been a lot of movement, a current pulling us down a river with twists and bends we couldn’t foresee. it’s time to crawl ashore and sit. in stillness.  where a fresh breath of beginning is infused with the musty odor of memory.

that’s where i’ll be dwelling in my soul.  i’ll be happy here alone.  maybe someone will pull up a chair and join me on my porch in that quiet.  or maybe i’ll just sit with the birds and the bees for a spell.

i am happy.


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