How slowly can I walk,
how much langour
and unbecoming,
trailing my feet through the woods
like water on fingers while someone else rows
… how slowly can I move and still go forwards?
The chickadees,
the dogs,
the leaf miners munching through their moments
all seem full of purpose,
vitality in flow.
Soft sari of the wind,
my feet listen to your warmth,
move to your light touch
with a slow reversing dance of infinite tomorrows.