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.