Part 12 of the 26-part series called "Napowrimo 2019"

To fully inhabit the body
as a turtle its shell; to recognize
the drapery of the palace
of now; to feel the wind on bare skin
and nothing more: to stop
irritably reaching out for a deeper
meaning swimming under the surface
like fish in a frozen pond in winter.
I’m sorry to say this winter
has been harsh. The fish have all died,
floated to the top, pressed
against the ice, eyes wide and mouth
agape: they are asking a question
they haven’t yet realized has no answer.