My muscles were turning to bone
as my bones had turned to stone

I still could walk
though less each year
from place to place
from house to house
from car to bar
bar to car

Or sometimes
with a special you
to view a special view

But there was no pleasure
in the walk itself

Nor had their been
as I recall
since the age of five
when my dog was still alive

and we would roam the ranch
from dawn to stealthing dark
with spring in both our steps

And then

just as I was about
to fall into winter
Emilie Conrad came along

That serpentinian septuagenarian
that Guru of fluid and flow
high priestess of Continuum
breath, movement, and sound

bringing into awareness
the waves under the patterns

Teaching the embracing
of possibilities in bodies
as Hal and Sidra Stone
teach embracing of selves

how much of us is water
and the fluid capability
of systems to transform

This story isn’t over yet
but there is a new lightness
at the end of the tunnel