Day 3

 

I am trying to write the way a friend in college used to practice her art.  She was given ten minutes and whatever she had was the art.

So Stella, for you

I need to go out

and sit among the old growth trees

and have them

teach me to breathe again.

Listen to their wisdom

and stay still

until I think

of nothing.

Until my mind is clear of all the noise

all that is running in my brain

like trash blown around

in a heavy wind

I need the peace the trees have found

growing older together 

in a grove they choose.