Poetry happens when one stops to listen
To sounds that her heart
Has been trying to send
Through the deafening tangle of habit and process

And once silent footfalls like moonlight
Begin touching consciousness,
The mind becomes wet with
The dew which was imperceptible falling.

Light splashes color upon dog-eared pages
Of comfortable scenery --
At once trembling with new
Strains of music that echo through musty silence.

Carried along by perceptive breezes -- sweet fragrances
Filter through nostrils
(Once stuffed with fast schedules)
Embracing such welcome refreshment.

The verses give hope to a world without solitude
Peace found in all-too-familiar surroundings
That gets in the fierce way of
Progress which cannot make time for such
      idleness.

February 20, 1987