Almost like a glove

I rather like this feeling
Of my weight gently stacked
Over my feet, spread from
The heels to the balls, and to
The toes; I can feel
Every inch of ground
Touching the skin of my feet
Pushing back at me, in a conversation
Between my being and the ground for now I occupy.

My head balanced on my neck,
Over my shoulders sitting
On my chest like a bird perched on a branch, my arms swaying like aerial roots
Effortlessly hanging from a tree;
I rather like this feeling of ease
When I gently rock myself
Between my toes and my heels;
I like the way the knees and the ankles so slightly bend and straighten
While the upper and lower body muscles tighten and relax in continuous dialog; I like the feeling
Breathing into a body
In touch with itself,
Wearing a skin that fits
Almost like a glove.

In one moment, there is no place I'd rather more be
Than inside the reality of my physical being, my most intimate companion till death,
Now embracing me
Painless, and breathing free.