As a Piece of Music

At seven in the evening garden,
birdsong, breezes,
churchbells, windchimes.

The body as a piece of music,
a weaving of instruments, ensembles,
at seven in the evening garden.

The body as a radiance
without periphery or center.
At seven in the evening garde

The body oceanic, inner winds,
at seven in the evening garden,
lifting liquid into waves.

At seven in the evening garden,
the body as an open waterway,
a streaming of sensations.

The body as a glowing fire,
embers ever ready for dance,
at seven in the evening garden.

The body as breeze and as breath,
as clouds always changing shape,
at seven in the evening garden.

The body as sky, as space beyond.
At seven in the evening garden,
mysterious and whole.

The body as the cosmos
wandering on earth
at seven in the evening garden.

At seven in the evening garden,
the body as awareness,
saturating galaxies.

I give up thinking, deeply I recline
at seven in the evening garden,
into this experience of the body.

At seven in the evening garden
I become an eminence,
letting go into itself.

Birdsong, breezes,
churchbells, windchimes.
At seven, in the evening garden.

                                ©Susa Silvermarie 2024
with thanks to Jennifer Piercy on Insight Timer