Weighted Waiting

I begin with weighted buoyancy.

Firmly and lovingly, I plant my own roots into this

lush soil

And feel its nourishment rise up through me and beyond me—

like the call of a chickadee—

into the wind.


I weight in patience

like a pine branch for the wind

Watching the day roam across the



I wait for the weight until I realize

It’s already happened

Slowly — over the broad

strokes of a moment,

over the intentional

batting of my eye in

the sunlight.


My wait is over.

And so, I move out and over the

earth body

into a flash of buoyant light.

Weigted Waiting by Andrea Benson.jpg
Amy Baumgarten