The curious outcome of nothing

Nothing is really something

How bizarre

to have so grand intelligence

yet fill each waking moment

contemplating how to fill the next

lost is the nothingness of stories from clouds

under shirt soaked trees where little backs lay

on thick autumn leaves

leaving gapping frames to ponder

arms tucked behind

resting

Merely gazing in wonder

& curiosity

They no longer climb the trees grandmother said

It is no wonder the thought of doing nothing

escapes their busyness of over scheduled play

It isn’t really play

Really rest, its nothing

without something.

Do you notice shapes