For all this talk of mindfulness

this is where I learned to be still –
at a small house perched on a hill in Grand Isle
above a rocky beach.
I inhaled stars on the surface of Lake Champlain
held crickets chirping in tall grass
and tasted fireflies in my fingertips.
I drank sun-scorched grass in the open field
where we played World Cup Soccer
only when our cousins from New Hampshire visited.
All four of them were an ad for Umbro.
I loved Umbro
hated soccer.
I liked diving for clams in murky water
that was so clear I felt my breath in my toes
and lilypads in my lungs.
I learned to be still sitting on a bridge
tossing pebbles into a pond.
I learned to be still on dirt roads
and floating in lakes.