what our bones know
note to self
hunch? sixth sense?
intuition? we don’t
agree on the name
but there is something—
it’s what our bones know
our dog sits alert, waits at
the door before we come home
“I time it” the dog sitter reports—
“always twenty minutes”
do we recognize
subtle tension or ease?
vibrations in the air?
thoughts floating by?
or maybe, just maybe
it’s hive mind, one shared mind
the source—bright, light
wide-open knowing
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—please understand that many will be rewritten.
the heart of the matter 
for every problem there’s a solution, but solutions don’t need a problem in order to be the solution. when there’s nothing but solutions that’s knowledge
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