Observe the middle globes of Newton’s cradle, and you will see a living stillness
Observe a ringing bell still the same
The sky, the clouds, the mountain, the plain
Behold, swallow, become
As she will do, is doing, has done
With my body
I think about the peace of her stillness
I think about becoming a brush of blue sky or
A dabble of green vista or
Perhaps a dot of black bird
Still
I will only ever be
A piece of her harmony
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