Stillness feels like riding the hills of Fairfax city
After I’ve observed the break of dawn on my drive to school.
Stillness is the taste of the morning breeze,
The feeling of it kissing my skin,
as I turn the corner onto Roberts Road.
Stillness is the blanket of humidor that drove out the winter chill
In preparation for spring.
Stillness is the sound of rain,
Pattering against the mud of my backyard in the night,
Drops of water coalescing with dirt.
Stillness is the deep breath upon performing a controlled power-press
With a 60lb. bar,
The strength emerging in the crease of my triceps.
Stillness is talking to you on a Saturday night,
The sound of your exhale and the silence.
The seconds walking past us without hurry.
Stillness is the engagement of eye contact,
Waiting for a witty remark to further spur the conversation.
But the silence never bothered me
Because it is in that silence that I learned how to be perfectly still
Even among the rush of Fairfax city-life.
The stillness is the break of dawn,
Your brown eyes and the sunset.
It is the morning breeze and the humidity,
Showering the town in rain
So that the trees will glow healthy in the morning.
Let me rise for another Spring day,
When the vibrato of the winter hum
And the birds tweet to the song of the new season.