Quiet One

Ah, you have become one of those quiet ones
who sits in the shade of the pine and eucalyptus.
Soft wind now is perfect for an hour of
this new becoming.
Later, when meadowlarks
obey the overwhelming force of afternoon
shifts in the wind strength,
when silk-strand sky is striated
with cumulus,
and the far-away mooing of range
cattle carries to your ears–
the peace you find under these trees
fills your precious, ticklish ear lobes
with ruffling, disturbing wind.

For now, all is so well, so perfect,
inspiring you to admit that you enjoy living.

I would not ask to carry you beyond this moment.
No horsefly, no sneezy pollen in the wind,
stirs you from this sweet afternoon slumber.

You do not need a poem to tell you of
the hidden goodness.
Another unwritten voice has found room within your listening.
That voice is the one that is within us always,
there for our pure living, there for turbulent
hours when the rest of the world seems unwilling
to give us our essential ingredients.

I would not steal those moments you require
with my own noisy chatter.
I would give them back to you and apologize, if my
words have been a distraction. Please enjoy
the moment.

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