In his stillness rock shifts, root probes,
The spider tenses her geometrical ego,
The larva dreams in the heart of the peachwood,
The child’s pencil makes a shaky line,
The dog sighs and settles deeper,
And a smile takes hold like the feet of a bird.
–Robert Siegel, excerpted from the poem “Rinsed With Gold, Endless, Walking the Fields”
Are there “still” moments in your life? In your work? In your journal? Where do you sit “still”? Are there things you need to “still” be doing?