Statio is the monastic gift of taking a deep breath between things.
racing from here to get to there
traffic weaving chaos
busting verge of road rage
blowing stop signs
leaning heavy on the horn
yelling curses at the radio
a side trail
near the recreation path
looking down
a cold creek ravine
taking a deep deep breath
gathering my scattered heart
I love this contrast - the cacophony and speed and anger down below, the Tired Monk above, in the trees, breathing peace. A poem I can completely relate to. The forest saves me, I think. I love your two closing lines so much.
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