I dream of solstices long ago;
to study how the earth tilts
its face towards the sun without moving.
At times, my love can do the same;
move to you without moving.
Yesterday, I saw how the winds,
without moving, pushed the swing.
The reflection of my face in the glass
held both of us without moving.
A finch landed in the small tree
next to the bird bath. It began singing
without moving.
How is it we can talk of being overwhelmed
without moving out of the way of that
which overwhelms us?
And then, without moving, the light of the sun
shines into the circle of life dissipating solitude.
A Thread You Follow 