GLINT OF SOLACE.

Pacing the floor;

Calmly distracted, the sun stains the empty white walls

with shadows of leaves and twigs;

Silhouettes, patterns of grey caught, suspended in forms,

Plants stand lowly basking on top of pine draws in digs

I'm made to sit; solace beckons behind a closed door.

No interruptions encountered in this sun-trap glaze,

Nothing disturbs the rays and their colours flowing free,

Evening stalks like clockwork, as it has for countless days,

The stream glistens, proudly, through radiant glass pristine,

Strokes like strobes gently honour yellow, orange shades,

While the breeze cries in soft merriment as magic faintly speaks,

That evening's come and dusk throws breath on night not far away,

Laments and odes of this day, expound in worlds before she sleeps.

Transfixed in the zone; picturesque portal of passive moods,

Ornaments and furry treasures loiter on the sill,

The hum of the immersion in the next door cleaning room,

Takes on the backdrop to my quiet in this sunny space so still,

Stopped pacing the floor, now slumped into lofty looks at the high

crescent moon,

And for a short pause taken undeterred, solace had been fulfilled.