I wish I could inhabit a moment
so completely
as my dog does when he sees
that tennis ball.
The sudden freeze. Focus. Eyes locked. Perpetually-wagging tale –
paralysed with purpose.
A prey drive entranced,
and when I reach for the ball, his gaze follows my hand
all
the
way
down.
Fingers brush yellow, drool-crusted fuzz. A light grip. His eyes rise and his lithe body stains with a desperate need for movement.
He waits
and waits
His every instinct: completely and utterly focused on
that tennis ball
and when the ball leaves my hand the tension in his bones shatters.
I wish I could inhabit a moment so completely
that I didn’t mind repeating it
dozens of times,
as he does every morning.
I throw the ball. He returns it. There is no new outcome to this game we play
and yet it exhilarates.
I wish I could love the little things;
the rituals and games and conversations
repeated with no new outcomes,
the way that he loves
that tennis ball
Bonus poem: Time is you
Not a reckoning; a slow awakening.
A mindful turn from old to new.
Taking it slow, taking the time,
because time isn’t money – it’s you.
PS – I love writing and I love eating! If you want to help with the latter (and ONLY if you want) you can maybe buy me a coffee? 🙂

Love them both!
Sent from my iPhone
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Hi Jessica, I’m trying to contact you from Participations, the journal of Audience and Reception Studies. Could you email me?
(Professor Sue Turnbull, Editor, Participations)
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