A poem for breakfast

Yesterday when I unpacked, I had a moment of panic when I couldn't find the coffee I had so carefully ground, a special treat while I am here, away from my usual green tea, a strong dark coffee blended from decaf Espresso and dark Italian Roast.

While the coffee was steeping, I opened a book of poetry a friend had shared with me: "new ghosts" by Laura Quinney. I'll share the first stanza, so perfect, here surrounded by forest and a time for me to pause and observe, think, and process new ideas.

*What I like

is to slow down

so much there is

almost absolute

silence almost

absolute stillness

as close at any rate

as any person can get in this world

not meant for that

at all and rarely

to be found except

in some places

where there is quiet

water or a heap

of rocks upon rocks*