I sat on the dirt.
I breathed in the dry scent of sage
as crumbled basalt injected into my nostrils,
as each breath reined in my attention.

It was easy to breathe.
Each thought became a breath.
Each breath an audible note in
harmony with the wind whipping through the rocks.

Sitting still is easy here in the wild.
Time came and went and the quietness sank in for
some time until eventually the ache in my legs
slowly brought an end to my sitting.

In this wild place, everything was part
of a sensory scenery.
As the sun went behind the hills
a basic fear became a part of that harmony.

A sudden rustle, or a darting motion
scares a thought into my mind–
excitement finds its way in, even when space
and silence is all there is.