TRANQUILITY

I want to set down the tranquility of this moment,

tranquility tame as the grass withered in my heart,

tranquility lofted by wind toward heaven.

I want to set down the tranquility of this compound,

the tranquility of its parking lot emptied of cars,

the tranquility of children running, grandmothers chatting.

I want to set down the clear and bright tranquility of the breeze,

the whispered tranquility of the weedstalk, shivering,

the bony tranquility of old people’s pantlegs.

I want to set down the damp tranquility of muddy ground,

the flaxen tranquility of spread sunlight,

the dry tranquility within the splintered branch.

I want to set down the tranquility shrouded by tree shade,

and the tranquility beyond the shade,

from earth to sky this green-to-blue tranquility.

Thinking this, I think of nothing else.

Thinking this, it overwhelms me,

soul and body, this

—tranquility.