20 Pause

When we halt our inner converse

the universe is still, like a bold

mouse pausing, not to be espied.

When our monologue ceases


our earth is quiet like sunlight

drifting through afternoon lace

like the distant sigh of an old furnace,

the murmur of leaves in spring wind.


Cacophonous our mind’s production

uproarious the raving day within

until we pause to recover

our whole, calm spirit.


Clear the evening angelus bell

hushed the noonday train yard

soft the parlor cat sleeping

bright the air in deepest woods.


This our harmony

this our own cathedral

we err to leave it for the mind outrageous

we could live our lives in sacred dwelling.