by Robert Lockridge

loving truly is like a gentle breeze
across a cool lake
on a hot summer day
like deep samadhi in the middle
of the afternoon sitting time
like bright sunlight glistening on water droplets
dappling waxy green leaves
not getting anything
not holding anything
not making any point
or underscoring any meaning
it is just this, right now
totally complete
desire without resolution
seeing just what arises
in sweet and precious clarity
like waking from a refreshing sleep
into the hum of a fan and light through the windows
making patterns on the wall
broken by the slats of wooden blinds
and lying there in the deliciousness of it all
without taking anything from it.