Everything moves.  Nothing stays the same. 



On a hot humid day, the air shimmers as it rises 


The light blue sky above keeps shifting shades 


And the seagull hovers but glides across the open space between the trees 


Of a sudden a gust of wind blows up 


And stirs the sandy beach into small tornadoes. 


The drifting of the clouds draws my eyes 


And makes me dizzy 


As if the solid earth on which I’m lying is also turning. 


The grass bends but resists and continues growing. 




And when I look at paintings 


The still life lines pull my vision 


In squiggles and in splotches 


And a myriad colours move in waves 


That overwhelm my senses 


And electrify the neurons 


That tell me what I’m seeing 


In messages that travel up and down my spine. 


The playful game of catch between the it and me. 




And the music when I hear it 


Drums on my ear and pushes on the bubble in my chest 


That starts to sway in timing with the beating 


Of this external heart that’s throbbing 


And overflows its liquid that now starts flowing 


Through secret veins that reach my entire body 


And pulls my head from side to side 


And overtakes my shoulders and my hips 


And somehow shakes my feet and legs 


Until I’m dancing. 


Swept up by sound, I trace its pulsing steps across the floor. 




And life itself keeps moving 


My wrinkles keep on growing 


The body’s shape keeps shifting. 


 My children keep on going, 


The solid house in which I live still settling, 


The rhythm and the rhyme of living. 




So this is beauty, this endless changing of the stars 


And my aging teeth 


The great arc of the sun and planets 


And my smaller swoop through space. 



So while we can, let’s share the dance together 


Let’s watch the darkening sky 


And the rising of the rainbow 


And hear the whistled tune of songbirds 


And whatever else of movement brings us joy. 



I am lying in a park looking at the still cloudless sky 


While across this canvas in a line like a fly 


A small plane comes buzzing, 


Distant, yet inside me when I close my eyes. 


The grand and minute grinding of the spheres.