Wiggling Minutes Collapse in One Episode

…the sun is out…everything is veiled in whiteness…shoe prints…tire tracks…Here I am…walking…breath by breath…interesting smoky figures coming out of my mouth and nostrils, dancing like the classical soul-liberating dance of India, as the cold wind makes an intimate pass on me…thoughts start to drift…shifting from one event to another…shuffling things I want to think about and avoiding those scraps of not-so-pleasant images…then my feelings just compartmentalize me and my mind just floats and glides, obediently following the dictates of what I feel in the moment…wiggling minutes collapse in one episode…and I begin to sink in the truth that is within me…and then that cold wind again…pleasantly teasing…and that smell of freshness starts to filter in to my nose arising from a newly fallen snow…I am enveloped by what is…a flock of pigeons flew above me…I eyed them until they disappeared from my sight…everything looks clear, a clarity that is not decisive and yet i am loving it…sensing and thinking of Basho and John Muir and Thoreau as I walk…and I walk…and I feel light…the hot coffee is waiting…as well as Matsuo Basho’s book, The Narrow Road to The Deep North…i feel that something new is going to come out of that cup of coffee and that book…

(*i photographed this image at the St. James Cemetery, Toronto, Ontario)

About these ads