with the grass below my feet and the cooling wind
blowing away the heat
I came to sit under a little tree
trying my best not think about  "later today" or "in a minute"
I had held onto the notion of time so tightly this year
that every time a plan was pried out of  my arms
I did more than cry

I slouched
I cursed
I became a flagging runner with a mile to go
an archer's arrow still far from its mark  

so today as I mediated
I could sense them
ants beginning to run up my legs
and into the forest of hair between my thighs
I was present enough–
I jumped up and shrieked
then I laughed

a friend sitting near me laughed too
I wondered if they had ants crawl up their legs too