While candles are aflame

the steady tick of a clock

I hear my walls groan

they have their own song

I’ve adjusted to listening,

the quiet of a morning.

The sky is overcast

outside a morning

has begun to unwrap itself,

the quiet of a morning.

My thoughts are tame,

no rush of wisdom.

I think about the past

and I swoon with memory.

If we make allowance

all that we believe

might show itself

with a resonance

we can bring present

live peaceful lives,

without the agony

of having to be told.

I sit with my coffee,

my legs stretch out

one ankle over the other

the quiet of a morning.