When the sun rose you could hardly tell. A set of bats stirred from their perch, and were gone. The whole tree, made of bats. Some branches wagged and bobbed, didn’t say a word. The gray inaction, Sunday morning. Even the animals seem to know, they take their time. Now all the trees rock side to side like we’re on a boat, you engage your core, root down, breathe. “Tree pose.” Slow the mind and regard it for what it is for a moment. No matter how fast we spin and rollick our way through the universe, no one knows how we got here or where we’re going. Why not try to stop, just once.