A simple mind

Clarity comes and goes.

 

Attention is held to breath,

breeze rustle and touch.

Flowing strands of spider silk.

 

But holding isn’t the path.

 

Sometimes thought

finds its proper place

with birdsong, clouds

and the staccato rumble

of trucks crossing a bridge.

 

My son laughs when

pleased, I tell him

of an ever-simpler mind.