It repeats

It repeats until you drag yourself reluctantly away and begin the search.
It's not in the receiver not in the basket with the remotes nor nestled down
in the cushions of the couch maybe there's time to find one of the other three
the one in the study oh yes still in its cradle a curious name for something
small black and boxy that bawls out its electronic repetitions until you
feed it with your now, your center shifted to another moment...
Thich Nhat Hanh all those letter Hs there for breath he says Thank you
telephone thank you for bringing me into the present but what if it's the
obnoxious neighbor or the annual policeman's fundraiser or the Obama
campaign and right at dinner-time the beans green and soft in their pan
the mashed potatoes and celeriac hot over the steam and yesterday's
brilliant and dynamic flash of presence stripped of its shimmering skin
and sizzling in the pan so thank you is in order I suppose
not just to the repeating cadences of the phone
or the living brilliance the other end of the wireless line
who initiated the call thank you to the way it
the way the present moment we call now keeps teaching and
waking us up poking us to rise up from our slide into hibernation
get out of our caves and blink into the sunlight