Just Be

There will come a time
When I can no longer stare at these soft hills,
When I can no longer brush
The head of this grass across my wrist,
When I can no longer rest
My ears against this peaceful silence,
And caress my cheek
Against this sweet breeze,
Perfumed by grass and moist soil.

There will come a time
When I can no longer open this veranda door,
Inhaling this contentment of coffee and dew,
And the gentle note of my mother’s voice:
“Good morning!”
When I can no longer sink
Into this symphony of rustling birch leaves,
Faint grasshoppers and repeating turtle doves,
And touch this sun, warm on my back.

Then, I will be cast adrift
In a cry of neon signs and sirens,
A face at every turn,
Concrete under every footstep,
I will float away
In a shouting world,
That never could understand
The joy of solitude,
The companionship of nature.
Then, my familiarity will be artificial,
My home will be a raft
In a stormy sea.

…But that time is not now.

So I will take a minute
To gather up these quiet moments,
Like Lego bricks,
And build them,
Piece by piece,
Into a soundproof room.
And there I will live,
In the moments before I fall asleep,
And the noises outside my window then
Will become those of this true home.

​***