Be still…
…but the monkey grabs hold of a vine
and swings
assertively and briskly
to the next branch
the next tree
the next bushel of leaves…
…he spins and spins
relentlessly playing with me
slipping through holes of nothingness
in the trees
around the trees
through the trees
so high from the ground…
…if I let him go
he will plummet to certain death
so reckless this monkey
as he taunts me incessantly
pulling me into
the emptiness of his
swinging and
swaying and
spinning
branch to branch
tree to tree
vine to vine
wildly amusing himself
through my ineptitude for stillness…

…the coo of the dove
calls to me
over here child
here is the stillness
here is the peace
here is the calm…

Dear Lord,
may I stay here now?
For trying to resist the monkey
is exhausting.