Calm – what colour is calm?

before tranquility, wait,
before silence, soon,
after the heavy rain has fallen,
as the wind walks away,
then the darkness parts her curtains,
the conductors baton raised as we
hold our breath, before we hear,
the hesitant birdsong speaking of life,
with the scents of earth and grass and bloom,
mixing and twisting and smirking,
thankfully,
the waves of yesterday,
have driven themselves deep, into the seas,
the shouting troubles fade, from my mind,
echoing down the stone walled steps, stairs to other places,
the newspaper talks only of food, and her fine cafes,
the new book an idiotic autobiography,
‘The Ant Family from Appalachia’
now at your side ‘Purpose’ your cat looks up, then intentionally,
distractingly, silkily, ups and away, padding softly on,
opening your french doors,
the agendum blow away as leaves unwanted in Spring,
‘Today’ thinking and undecided, on what she shall be.
my pulse falls,
the need to think receding softly,
temperature inspires no sweat, injects no chill,
the sun hums a ridiculously happy tune, as,
all the bankers and lawyers are holidaying,
in far flung places of hoped but failed meaning,
happier children invent play, and swing on,
whilst aunts and uncles watch on, with half an eye,
a-seat on lawns sighing as picnics pieces fall,
for the Ant Family to devour,
say, let’s build a home here,
between pages 22 and 23,
hiding in these soft sounds of pages turning,
below the illustrators best work,
in the poetry and phrases the editor,
glided over and with a wink,
found herself filled with calm.