all is passing

Still: the morning lies waiting. I walk out and my breath makes vapour in the morning air. A moment escaping me, cloud formed and drifting. Then another, then another as I walk this living body towards the swimming pool.

I cut through the park. The low light an arsonist among the leaves that are left. How I love this park. This is the park where my children grew and played from babies till teenagers. I can hear echoes of their laughter, their trip trapping over the bridge, a kicked ball; see their frictionless joy as they arc higher on the swings, their running towards me faces open and pure, beaming in tiny perfect teeth.

Another breath, a thought condensing in the cool air catching the light.

All is passing, all is passing through. As I see the breath that leaves me, so I imagine taking the new air in. The splendid air that carries me through this park trees blazing, with early morning walkers, thoughts of my children, of the day ahead, of returning to fitness. All these condensing on my in-breath and are soon out again and there they all are in a steam cloud, and there they all go and there they are all gone. Absorbed into the air.

So, I walk; soon I will swim.

Onwards.