Poem: To Breathe
Do we understand — appreciate being too profound for our speed-addled minds — the essential vitality of
Filling ourselves with life. Expelling that which only trees and plants find useful.
When breathing quickens we know the chase is on, the race commenced toward victory or seductive conquest.
When it slows, we’ve drifted toward sleep, like a canoe on a Minnesota river.
The speed, the rhythm — it’s no matter so long as it’s there, aspirant and assured.
I watched him take his last one, while I held his hand.
He was startled it seemed.
And then he sighed.