I would have written earlier
But I couldn’t find the line
A mix of decay and new ideas
Water lapping, sunlight sparkling
On the crest of the rivers waves
Warmed by that which I call beauty
I am warmed with the writing
Of this letter
It is to you, also to no one in
Particular, except perhaps those
Who have been, or are in love
With sufficient quiet, to hear the
Silent calm among the passions
The dry grasses and the reeds
Buffeted by the spring breeze, the
Water burbles at the bank where
Children with their parents stroll
I wish to close now, move a little
Closer to the drove, ever thankful
For these few moments together
This is a poem from Vagaries:
Love of The Key to Room 149