Practicing Tai Chi, I brush dirt against the wind

I stand like a tree, think in circles. My left foot / on the dark kitchen square of linoleum, the right / stepping onto a sunlit patch. And for fifteen minutes / on an ordinary day like this Sweeping Monday / I’m a Tai Chi warrior. I had expected to be / more lithe, ballerina, violinist, but here I am / housewife in sweats, fuzzy cat flip flops, cloud- / walking, collecting…

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