Silhouette over
silent pebble,
the reticent
showering of the
golden hue of
the hushed sun.
Feeling sober;
gathered in pictures
painted inside a room.

When, on darker nights,
the moonlight replacing
the serenading daylight,
and a soft rain is
being present, there the
stillness opens itself
to the kissing sounds
of the charcoal embers
in the fireplace.
And I learned, if only
in hindsight, that what
pressed on heart was no
concern of mine.
Plunder and ravaging
might be in every
circle, but here is only
where I am. Where I will
remain, composed
and assuredly agreeable.

Is dull or dry what
is being thought?
Are other messages
arriving that are
not delivered?
I'm not concerned.
I'm not bothered, or
worried. No, instead
I stay steady in the
melodious after-thoughts
of observation .