Cabin Current

A quiet intelligence — energy shaped like stillness, breath shaped by the mountain air.

Night settles against the pines.

A glass waits on the railing,

fig and rosemary steeped in light.

The air tastes like calm and altitude.

The mind unwinds; the body listens.

There’s movement here —not in motion, but in being.

A quiet kind of intelligence —how the heart senses before the head names,

how breath steadies what words can’t.

Energy shaped like stillness,

awareness shaped by the mountain air.