Beyond Cuckoo

Transformation

No hurries—no worries.

I can sit to meditate on the sun—

or the rain.

Rain that cleanses

And smells like spring—

or summer.

I walk miles alone.

Crowded only by thoughts.

Or I can hide with multitudes

It is all the same—

this feeling of now.

I swim in the ocean

Or a lake or a stream—

Wade through creeks

trickling with that sound

that brings soft sleep.

I catch a hook in my mouth

And jump with the bass

Flopping to be free

Once again.

I can do all these things in my own time.