the quiet

The quiet has been elusive as of late.

I've sought it in pockets of a day, though it runs screaming to the crash of an unknown chaos in other rooms. There is no time for a silent thought. Perhaps, it is best this way.

The quiet brings opportunities for contemplation. Things, one tends to pack away for later dealings, well up when the air is void of other suggestions. Those worries, old wounds, or lost moments of sunshine.

But on occasion, by accident, I've come across sounds that seep between gaps of the din, softening the noise a bit. Just enough peace. Giving clarity a smoother ride.

It could be, as I'm older, I'm learning to appreciate the way the light falls through the trees onto the faces of the children. And just as children do, I discover how brilliant the points of sunshine can be, slivers shimmering through the window shade. That even the tiniest flower, near-hidden in tangles of grass, has its place in the bouquet. How achingly beautiful it is. All of it.