Easy and composed

Retired in some place

Containing its mood

From urging its pace



Shoulders and neck

Are much more at rest

When numbers are small

And grasp you, I shall



And then

I breathe

Intone

And I rest...



Alone,

I breathe

Intone

And I rest...



Fingers clap. Snap!

Was it my turn,

Add my tepid talk

To the rowdy flock?



I care only to loose

Myself in reserve

If waves around clash

I leave in mild thoughts



And then

I breathe

Intone

And I rest...



Alone,

I breathe

Intone

And I rest...