Presence, Practiced

Most of the time we meet the ground the same way. Feet first. Familiar. The earth is always there, holding us, but we rarely notice—the way you stop hearing a sound that never stops.

Then the whole arrangement turns over.

The forearms become the foundation.
Each vertebra makes a little more room for the next.
The skin softens.
The jaw softens.
The brain quiets.

The toes—quietly, impossibly aware.
Refusing to be left out.

One line.
Fingertips to toes.
Nothing forgotten.
Nothing left behind.

Gravity hasn't changed.
The earth hasn't changed.
Only the conversation has.