From three hundred sixty degrees,

a symphony of stillness emerges,

one that quiets the rustling

of moments jostling against one another,

one whose bars settle over sound,

one whose rhythm matches a heartbeat.

In this orchestra,

the settling of pollen plays bass,

the flight of a gull, bassoon

the unfolding of crimson columbine, piccolo

the ruffling of foxtail stalks, horn.

The sudden hum of a hungry bee

that swells and recedes

along its winding course in search of nectar

further grows this stillness

with a song all its own.