The mind is quiet folding towels, large
rectangles three-dimensioned with the fold,
The simple bringing together of corners
And building solid stacks to fight damp, cold.
But not all folding is the same--the socks
Are rummaged through in desperate search for pairs
That match--and now the mind is hard at work
That everyone will have what each one wears.
The towels give us boredom, repetition
We need to meditate and quiet mind--
No hanging, sorting, unclean folds--just even,
Uncomplicated movements to unwind.