One lesson of walking and sitting, of sitting and walking—
in the streets as in the fields—is presence,
as if pre-occupation leads to a poverty of mind.
But I know this cannot be true. We write to think, think to write—
and without thought we’d dread to face each day’s
cumulative possibilities and careful decisions.
Dread is a strong word and stronger action taking too much space.
I laugh at the triad in my title—
it brings to mind the stability of three-legged footstools.
Sitting here looking at one of spring’s lingering daffodils,
I let thought go and feel its friendly touch.
In process, there and back, emptying, filling, and fulfilling.
(April is International Poetry Month.)
My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.