Being where I am is such a long-forgotten skill but now I’m trying it again… in this body, here, and now, breathing this breath, cool and quiet, filling me, then pausing, holding still, then letting go, exhaling long and soft. And walking down the tire-worn drive between the woodlot on my right and grass and trees and landscape on my left, and beyond and almost out of sight, the county road, each step a balancing my body knows. And looking upward into trees, their leaves, their separate shapes, their variations on the color green, kaleidoscopic, mesmerizing shiftings in the bluest blue-sky breeze. And now attending to the sounds of katydids and crickets, birdsong echoing from trees, a car and my awareness of which way it’s coming from, and when it passes by and glides toward town. And catching next the grassy scent of cattle in a neighbor’s pasture, bringing back old memories of other homes and pastures, children youn