And clouds hang
above the mountains
looking like petulant 
children about to 
hold their breath 
pink now red 
and purple too
as strong winds
push them aside 
like a dealer
clearing a table 
of its cards
and once gone 
the light blue 
kisses dark peaks
like a mother 
smooches her child 
who is headed 
out the door 

I want 
for little 
having already 
had most 
and this 
now this 
is enough 
there is
something sacred 
in enough 
a peace 
comes along 
a quiet 
lapping of
rolling waves 
delicately upon 
the shore 
I am 
tickling me

And clouds 
earlier invisible 
begin appearing 
like ships
quietly creeping 
through fog
making dock
though these
clouds remain 
in sky
mooring to 
the heavens 

In this 
my peace
nary sound
even lights
that lead
my footsteps 
like ancient 
librarians shush
as the 
trees outside 
my window 
whisper G’night 
lad today 
was good 

When I write fours
it’s because these words
have gathered closer still 
to the fire listening 
knowing that somewhere else 
is where they need 
to be but go 
they will not do 
finding warm comfort here 
with we and me