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