I rest my eyes on the distant bird

I rest my eyes on the distant bird
Flitting across the brightened, clear urban horizon of Heavenly sky,

Hinting shades of blue and pink and expectant white,
lit with the sun’s promise of the fullness of day

I breathe the silent singing of pregnant, moist winter air beyond my windows
—pregnant with freshness, and stillness and possibility of movement

I am free of worry and outside of words
Merely living; but mere it is not
For I ride the wave’s cap, moving by changing
but never leaving it —always residing there,
in the only one of the three, Past, Present and Future,
where any one has ever dwelt.

Given charge of a body, this body, mine to dispose of;
whose earthly capacities are mine to bestow
on the engines of endeavors of my choosing;
whose fears and complaints I give ear,
and allay them lest their infant shouts and babbles
drown out the Music of the spheres.

Jan. 28, 2011