I look out from my ancient consciousness. The bare bones of winter trees beyond my window. Dark sky rain, keeping their home. Filling mind’s awareness with sounds of silent life. Observer me. The one who, for a moment, cherishes a sudden presence of sun. Passing through the clouds. Then, re-covered the moment with gray.
Frame of the mind? Frame of consciousness? Infinite expressions, fleeing out of this moment. In their wake, the company I keep. Hidden in plain sight, this derived presence. Memories, my perishable times of futures past.
Unnoticed transformations, each drop, each breath. Running away with my aging body. The once rushing spring, now a backwater. Observed through the fragile ice mirror of my old bones. Stares back, this unfamiliar body. Until there is nothing left to wade in.
Foolish mind, missing the point. Seasons embrace, touching my heart. Same sun, same joy. Keeping me company, a knowing smile. Clouds come and go. Unattached to their old forms. I too sleep among their stars. That is enough. 12/21/24 Alan Swanson
