september

Back again, back again and back again.
Habits are made from going back again.
Back to the yoga mat.
Back to the meditation cushion.
Back to the hardware store
and to the mechanic.
To the roll of dental floss under the sink.
To the novel on the shelf.
Back to long walks for noticing.
For quiet.
For surprise.

Back to bookkeeping.
Back to the therapist.
Back to a weekly soak in the tub to submerge woes beneath the waterline,
Drowning them in luxury.

Back to the guitars
And to the rehearsals.
To the lists of chores, obligations and dreams.
Back to dreams especially.
Back to the blank page of discovery
That mends the frayed edges of the heart
And gives voice to the soul’s song that was
waiting
waiting
waiting.

Back again. Back again. Back again.