Patterning a Calmer Pace

Remind me how to slow down she said,

because I desperately wish to move slower.

So slow I feel the tips of my feathers as they touch into the wet grain of this riverside.

So slow that many winters of woodsmoke are released when I walk.

My feet golden coals in no hurry to burn.

Let me slip in behind you as your shadow while you comfortably carry our pace.

We can take turns dragging along contentedly,

allowing our minds to tap into that dream-space

some unknowingly call boredom, lazy.

But the cows grazing beside remind me that’s not true.

The geese circling overhead in wonderful directionless patterns.

The spirits all patterning out a calmer pace.

You cannot save anything by going any faster.

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