When I get really, really quiet …

Hold on, let me try it.
A rhyme is a steel hot monkey bar rung.
A heartbeat.
I love to write when my mind can pause and reverse itself
and wait for other pieces of itself
like a hiker on a hot day,
making our way to the swimming hole
Sun shining off the tiny river below like a snaky mirror
You wait at the turn on the trail, in the shade
I walk at a steady, calm pace
My heart not used to this for it’s been a while
since I hiked this far
We are pieces of my mind, or yours
When I get really, really quiet
right next to the ears of the forest
I can hear a twig break
And you, when I approach you,
You stand up immediately to keep going
and I sigh, wanting to rest
and you do a loop in place and laugh
and hand me a dried apple ring
The whole place smells like apples
In my mind,
In your mind,
There is time to walk, rest, reach the water, dive in.
Silly things don’t bother me today.
Older now, and my brain is wired like a woven basket,
I used to joke that my mind is a steel sieve,
The love I have for you,
you as in me,
as in the practice of loving,
and you my friends who share the love
and the need, the deep need
for a quiet mind.
River or no river,
the quiet swimmer.