Winter
Meditation
by Mary Redman
by Mary Redman
Cross-legged
on a cool rubber mat, I sit
intent
on clearing thoughts, pull breath
Outside
a flock of starlings
scarcely
colors the brown-gray morning.
Their
wings beat, hold them hovering
over
three spiky shrubs, denuded
beyond
the window. Unfazed by the cold
metal
shepherd’s crook and glass tube,
four
land on a feeder, half-filled with seed.
A
dozen more vie for a spot, their cries more
shrieks
than trills. I release my breath.
Responding,
they fly, and I pass through
with
them beguiled toward the flat sky.
About
Mary Redman: She is a retired high
school English teacher who takes classes at the Indiana Writers
Center. She works part time supervising student teachers for two
universities. She volunteers at the Indianapolis Museum of Art and
elsewhere in the community.