Sit

This spring Wednesday when the Widow Wyile’s
curious mind gnaws nibbles
and ruminates on the matter of aphorisms
(can you tell she lives with a philosophical goat?)
those pithy short phrases
that strike one with fervent
head nodding for feeling profound
and resonating with good sound
Today’s gleaned from Steven Heighton’s
short essay on boredom but borrowed
from master of mindfulness Thich Nhat Hahn:
Don’t just do something; sit there…
She already can’t quite recall the simple and sensible
reversal from not just sitting around to doing something
because she is so entranced
by the imperative to sit
to be
to listen
to absorb space
and space out
the sun is warm
the air is cool
she wears a light down jacket
the trees are all branches but
there is a potency about
them       a glow
of coming buds and fine fine
branches as yet bare
in the brisk late afternoon pale
blue air
but they are not to the naked eye
obviously      observably
active in a human sort of way
yet as they “sit”
or stand
or seem to reach
they teach us about “sitting”
and being something
and that lovely stillness
suits the Widow Wyile’s pleasure
in slowness
accords appreciative weight
to the final Wednesday
in the month of March
if we’re going to compartmentalize
time like that
but maybe what matters more
is to be thankful
for the smattering of birdsong
and sitting out of doors

(graphix solution, spelled backwards: w o l s w o l l a)