Summer Morning
All morning,
Covers thrown off, naked,
Eyes closed, listening...
Somewhere close by
A stone cracks a knuckle,
Another rolls over in its sleep.
I hear a butterfly stirring
Inside a caterpillar,
I hear the dust talking
Of last night's storm.
Further ahead, someone
Even more silent
Passes over the grass
Without bending it.
And all of a sudden
In the midst of that quiet,
It seems possible
To live simply on this earth.
~ Charles Simic