To meditate

To meditate
Is to sit down
And observe one’s breath.
To feel the sensation
Of the ground below
touching one’s feet
And holding them up
With gentleness.

To meditate
Is also to run
A toothbrush
Down the row of one’s teeth.
Like the fingers of
A master pianist
Along a sprinkle of keys.
Deft, yet gentle.

To meditate
Is also to wash
A dirty vessel.
To scrub it with soap,
Watch it foam and lather
And pass a stream of water
To tease the grime away
And drip off its edges.

To meditate
Is also to step outside
And let the cold air
Take us in embrace.
To breathe in deep
From between the nostrils
Down through the throat
And into our lungs.

To meditate
Is not merely
To sit with eyes closed
And observe one’s breath.
To meditate
Is to attend to
And be engrossed
By things most mundane.