Shall I embody spirituality 
Or perhaps spiritualize embodiment?

Shall I live in mindfulness
Or perhaps self-forgetfulness?

Shall I embrace non-duality 
Or perhaps duel with the universe?

Shall I worship God
Or Gaia?

Ah, no
Please excuse me
I am going to my rocker on our back porch
The carved wooden one my children gave me
One Mother’s Day in Calgary
In the last millennium

I will cushion my old back
With the red cushion my mother crocheted 
A few years ago
Before arthritis claimed her ability
To work with red cotton thread

I will sit
Rock gently
While admiring the green and yellow leaves
Of our weeping cherry
And the now empty robin nests
Snuggled in the porch rafters
Still echoing the pleas of hungry fledglings

Fall is coming
And I am content