Chill January, sometimes gray, sometimes sunny, could be an opportunity for us to pause, reflect, and experience the peace that is always deep within us. Here’s a poem that speaks to our capacity for calm and contentedness.


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.