She sits in the grass like an old yogi without a mat.
Pondering, remembering fondly...
days of limber legs, boundless running, dips in the river,
and incessant tennis ball chasing.
She welcomes her maturity.
Fourteen years in this body have
brought her wisdom and deep love.
Nose lifts to the wind...
Inhaling scents of the past and present.
Will she see one more summer?
My human attachment longs for the answer to be yes.
She has no attachment.
She knows better.
Time and bodies are only grand illusions.
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