Every so often I seem to stumble into this state of mediation.
Here it is quiet but not silent—
I’m neither too high or too low.
I rest, a fog hovering the water and brushing the sky, cool and calm.
I know this is fleeting.
It’s one of many states that I travel through now and again.
Soon the sun will burn me up,
or the rain will pour me down.
So for a minute or an hour I exist in this liminality and I wait.