Watch your breath. Wait, and watch
as you might observe a sparrow
resting on a branch.
That is: attentively, at ease,
like a monarch who may choose
to wait attendance on a sparrow.
Bird wings, and your faithful friend, your breath, never rest long.
The sparrow soon rejoins the air, the very air
that lifts and lets fall the skin below your throat.
The air that flattens cities, spins the maple seed.
There is no end of wonders
in the fulcrum of the breath,
in the stillness of the sparrow.
Divine, ordinary, framed
by the attention
of God's own eye.