Solitude

This is the fifth of seven poems in a series.

Solitude

It's not the woods, it's not the wilderness.
It's only a corner in the walk-in closet.
Or a comfy chair beside the fireplace,
dim light, and there's that buddha
on the mantelpiece.
It's early morning before the sunrise,
or late night after the kids are asleep.

But it is precious, it is clear,
It is the slowing.
It is the food of breathing.
It is the longer thoughts.

It is solitude.
Just a tiny bit.

Ahhhhhhhhh.......