A Pleasure Waiting for You

Find peace where most don't look,
All entertainment's banned,
Where you've no need to book
Or juggle meetings planned.
A place to hear the breeze
As blessing on your life
And watch clouds pass to ease
Your soul of pointless strife.

Peace is a holiday
For minds on-call for hours.
No words are queued to say,
No nags demand your powers,
Just you in scene that's still
Rememb'ring things you love.
Your lungs can sigh and fill
With calm, like nested dove.

True peace can set from just a loved one's hug,
Or mercy's smile relieving tension's tug.
At times, though, we would run to move away
When beaten low by clamour of the day.
It's then a quietened room is luxury.
So too, to sit against a grand old tree. . .

Where air is fresh to scent,
The sounds are Nature's own --
Or shushed by silence lent.
Sunlight is gently shown
On things you seldom see
Because they mattered not
While scrabbling on life's scree,
The beauties you forgot.

It's now your brain slows down
And shyest thoughts can show
To play new games and clown
Though, earlier, locked below.
Maybe something you see
Afresh makes sense at last
Of old conundrum's plea,
Unsolved while duties passed.

Your senses shyly move to take control
Presenting morsels yet denied your soul,
Like dappled lights on silvered bark,
The careless sway of leafy tendril's arc,
Demurely coloured crusts of ancient stone,
Or rhythmic soothing of hid crickets' drone.

A new perspective steals
Into your locked-up head.
Detachment slow reveals
Effects of words you said
Or tasks you need to do.
A problem may resolve
When not expected to.
Perhaps new dreams evolve.

A taste for peace needs years
Before you can't resist,
Just like the bitter beers
That make dry mouth feel kissed,
Or string quartet and jazz
Unlatching joy's lit door
In place of Pop's pizzazz
Preferred too much before.
 
Such peace may come from country's leafy well,
From wind-blown cliffs while watching sea-born swell,
On music's voyage through shuffling harmony
Or from routine -- if pleasant thoughts fly free.
Stop there. Turn on the tap for flow of peace
And rinse away the gritty aches of care's caprice.