I wish you the grace
to be quiet—the grace and
the time to lie quiet
in the still green grass
on a sundrenched day
and not go for a walk
in the radiant leaves,
and not write anyone back.
Not read a book. Not make
a call. Not plan whatever
comes next. Not do anything
at all but lie still and quiet
in the lush and still green grass
and let the earth do what
the earth does best, which
is receive whatever weight
comes. May you have a friend
beside you whose hand rests
in yours, and may you
say nothing at all, not
a single beautiful word at all.
For hours.
And when you rise, and
rise you will to reenter
the thrumming, clamoring
world, may you carry
within you all that quiet,
all that glorious still.