Settling in
Winter is covered in rocks and sand.
I try to look where I am going but sometimes miss.
The green grass remains under large piles of sleepy white water.
Water waiting for sunshine to send it on its way.
I did down dogs with children today
and found that I was nestled some where
between a down dog and a deep breath.
I find business suits me well: from PE, to Statistics, to homework, to sharing words with you.
Winter is covered in rocks and sand
some of the ice seems permanent growing the road up and bumpy
but I know it will melt with time.
Time seems still and flying and I spinning somewhere in between.
Where did those moments, restless for healing pass?
Now with a round pot belly and complaints about eating well.
There were days filled with only 2% milk. Days.
Fat and healthy I eat oats and berries and cheese and round meatballs drenched in sauce.
I eat words made for quiet places and words made for growth.
I find that my stomach is stronger than it has ever been.
Able to digest the world.
Where did thouse sticky summer days go.
Where the cathader stuck to my leg
and my shorts were to short to wear and black stiches sewed up my stark white belly.
Sometimes I feel that time has been passing me like I am in one of those whirlpools in a river.
You know the ones where a leaf or stick seems to spin but not move in any one direction. Ah I get it. The only way the stick can move is forward is to stop spinning.
Stop spinning.
Stop.
Stop.
Winter is covered in rocks and sand.
I try to look where I am going but sometimes miss.
The green grass remains under large piles of sleepy white water.
Water waiting for sunshine to send it on its way.
I did down dogs with children today
and found that I was nestled some where
between a down dog and a deep breath.
I find business suits me well: from PE, to Statistics, to homework, to sharing words with you.
Winter is covered in rocks and sand
some of the ice seems permanent growing the road up and bumpy
but I know it will melt with time.
Time seems still and flying and I spinning somewhere in between.
Where did those moments, restless for healing pass?
Now with a round pot belly and complaints about eating well.
There were days filled with only 2% milk. Days.
Fat and healthy I eat oats and berries and cheese and round meatballs drenched in sauce.
I eat words made for quiet places and words made for growth.
I find that my stomach is stronger than it has ever been.
Able to digest the world.
Where did thouse sticky summer days go.
Where the cathader stuck to my leg
and my shorts were to short to wear and black stiches sewed up my stark white belly.
Sometimes I feel that time has been passing me like I am in one of those whirlpools in a river.
You know the ones where a leaf or stick seems to spin but not move in any one direction. Ah I get it. The only way the stick can move is forward is to stop spinning.
Stop spinning.
Stop.
Stop.
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