seated on the zafu, breathing in and out

listening to a word arising in mind: “deeper”

breathing in and out, going “deeper,” encountering

sensations: the upper arm itchiness, the bodywide tingle;

choral thinking: the fastrack memory reel of a career,

the plethora of remembered conversations, of screaming;

breathing in and out, that voice again, saying, “deeper,”

the slow quieting, then the quickening noise;

still breathing in and out, hearing that voice say, “be still.”

words drop away: only this. Only this. This!

For how long? Completely present, utterly aware,

then the tide of choral commentary, again

breathing in and out, a flicker of that silence

before iPhone classic chimes ends it all

morning light

the blossoms fall

to the street