I have the silence
I ought not to waste it
Outside is a white-blue sky
And a good wind in the trees
I think of you, listening
To our disruptive words
It is hard to let go
It is easier to be angry
Or at least it seems so
Without the breath
Of meditation to calm me
Which itself becomes a force
For misplaced attention
The ears ring louder today; tube
Train experiences in circulation
So much activity in so little time
No wonder a shot of angst arose
Yesterday may well have been
The end of a gentle winter; in the park
Old men sat, reading their old newspapers
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