Evening practice.
Ten mindful breaths
beneath the stars.
Evening practice.
Ten mindful breaths
beneath the stars.
September, and
the nights are drawing in.
Long summer evenings seem
a distant memory.
In the house,
once the lights go on
the world outside seems
so dark,
so uninviting.
–
But it’s still there,
still waiting.
–
Tonight, I venture out,
stumbling until my eyes
grow accustomed to
shades of darkness.
A glow in the west
from the sun, long set,
faintly illuminating
a pale mackeral sky.
Clouds like ripples in sand,
and behind them
faint twinkling stars
guiding me to the north
and the beauty of the night
A glimpse, from the window, of stars.
The great bear, or saucepan,
Tracing a line to the north.
–
After that, I had to go out.
Grabbed my coat,
Turned my face upwards,
Greeted familiar landmarks in the sky.
–
It’s so easy in winter
To come home from work in the dark,
Spend the evening indoors,
Miss the simple wonder outside
Of a ceiling of stars.
–
The owls were quiet tonight
As I stood
Starbathing.