Poem: March 26, 2019

Meditation

You might think I'm joking (Mr. Schedule and Routine),
but I really like the idea of being idle and thinking
quiet and lingering thoughts that percolate over
the course of days, steeping in themselves, getting
better with age. I like the idea of laying in bed
all morning, the cats at our feet, waxing philosophical,
or of long walks in state parks with nothing to do
and no pictures to take. I like the idea of canoes
on long rivers and riding for miles on our bikes.
I like to imagine walking down the slow ages of trails
and listening, listening, with no words to be said.
I like the idea of loitering on the front porch at night,
maybe with a book or practicing the guitar, and you
on the swing, sipping wine. And I like the idea
of making love all night, returning to one another
over and over in silent conversation that gradually
melts into the light. I like the idea of sitting still
and of lying beside pools, of passing time working
puzzles or meditating or sitting motionless by a fire.
I find it easy to romanticize a simple and peaceful life,
and some part of me honestly aches to say that
that is who I am, or at least, who I aspire to be-
Siddhartha content beside the stream and beneath the tree.