Not an ounce of anger
nor arden rage
which typically fill the pages.
There’s a subtle calm
causing such hesitation;
a sense of being stuck.
-Restless, drifting
in a sea of tranquility.

When I came home
I greeted the silence that had become my friend

he's kind and tranquil
and wraps around me like a blanket
he won't leave me
because you took all the sound from my life
and now the quiet is all I have left

a twig snaps beneath my shoe,
the sudden sound shattering the calm atmosphere.
sunlight dapples over my skin,
rippling across my clothes,
pooling in my cupped hands
as if i were holding it.
delicate leaves rustle overhead,
my attention to the emerald glow above only broken
by the hum of a bumblebee
buzzing its way to yet another flower.
trees, seemingly protective,
surround me,
their trunks a shelter for such a variety of creatures.
sweet birdsong echoes above.
a woodpecker taps a home somewhere to my left.
a chipmunk skitters across my path
and into the still ferns,
causing them to shudder.
the scent of soil, of leaves, of nature, floods me.
i wonder about the world,
about the mountains and about the sea.
about my friends, my family,
about strangers with lives
just as complex and unknowing as my own.
i ponder myself, my life,
where will i go?
what will i do?
will it all be worth it?

-l.s.

staring out at the rushing creek,
standing on the edge,
crushed leaves beneath my shoes.
i toss my phone on the soil;
i don’t need you right now, devil.
instead i focus on the passing water,
on the ongoing march of time
thrusting us forward no matter how hard we try
to make it stop for us.
i sit down.
birdsong fills my ears,
joining the creek
as it glides smoothly over its bed.
leaves brush against each other
as a spring breeze picks up,
rustling their way into my mind.
the gentle wind smells of flowers,
of soil and of memories.
i close my eyes,
allowing myself to forget everything.

-l.s.

i step outside, the sky above gray as slate
petrichor seeping up through the grass,
engulfing my state of mind as i inhale
and guiding me into a place of hushed abstraction.

-l.s.

His love
Didn't feel crazy
Like butterflies and birds fluttering in my stomach
But rather tranquil
Like a blooming rose