This is that seldom found time   reposeful

   your feet resting on soft leather 

warming in mid-morning light


Fragile webs of cloud shape and reshape 

    moving in slow motion southward 

Billions of billions of sunlit particles   a field 

   of delicate blue like a peaceful mind


What could there be to regret 

   when words come in their natural order

when what has been planted in the psyche

   leads to fruition that does not decay


like chimes heard from a great distance

    then not heard

then heard in memory’s placeless air