With my son, I was meditating.
Inhaling from the diaphragm, being still.
Breathing in and out through each nostril, avoiding thinking.
Trying all restlessness to kill.

Focusing on every part rising up the spine and now saying the Maranatha prayer.
Quietly saying come Lord, come.
Outside rain drops sliding down the window pane like a tear.
The cloud’s soothing shadows hiding the brightness of the sun.

And through the window by the bank high and grassy squared in section.
A great tree root grew in my inner and outer vision seeing.
Embedded deep, crazily reaching out in every direction.
Fixed yet growing.

Like a meditation it is still.
But it’s life force crates a peace that is with me still.