Thoughts take me out,

out of my body, out of now.

Molars grind.

I am grinding out a problem

to occupy this mind.

I am this grind.

It is a demanding sport, this getting lost in thought.

This figuring out of a future

that is a replay of a bad season

in which all was loss,

all was lost.

I open my aching jaw

and shift my attention to the spring day,

to pink and white flowers adorning trees

along the swollen brown river,

Finally I finally hear their call to notice them.

They have no problems, the river blossoms,

only a few short days to happily offer their beauty to this world.

I breathe again, my mind now at rest in a body

that breathes again

happy to be returned to life and its world.

I am here.

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