It aint hard
To sit pretty on the window sill

Taking in breath
Taking in the moment

Listening to rhythmic music
And the cars passing by

But America’s sworn enemy is quiet
And wisdom her bane

I struggle to find this moment
To meet myself

To meet my pain.

The cat lies under a sunbeam
And stays there

Her tail curls
Serene

Beckoning me there

To watch dust drift by hidden currents

There’s a wisdom in it-
The stillness.
And in the dense carpet fibers.

Lets rub our eyes
And fall asleep

From the Author

Sorry about the late post, people. The muse has been only offering me half-truths for a while.

Sometimes a poet just needs to spend a nice afternoon with friends and study the cat.

This is a poem about finding quiet.