Just

sitting still.

A lost art.

Rediscovered in retirement.

There is a soft southerly breeze

spinning the garden spinners

slow and easy,

and playing on the deep throated Woodstock chimes

hung from the live-oak branch.

I am dozing on the front porch,

slowly becoming that old guy

dozing on the front porch

that neighbors and passers-by

whisper about…

snicker at…

and chuckle over….

Who cares?

It”s a fine way to pass

a mid-October afternoon

in the shade.

My back hurts some.

Lifted something heavy

I shouldn’t have.

Maybe a swim and a steam

would help.

Or someone

with good hands and warm oils…

But

just sitting still,

definitely

will.