On Hammock Hill

Somehow, here even among the

chatter of the chasing squirrels,

the tremulous treble of the birdsong,

the whipping whirl of a Frisbee,

or even the doppler drift of a bicycle’s speaker -

The world is quiet.

Somehow, here along the

sidewalks I’ve walked

these past four years -

The world is different.

Somehow, here lying between

two solid oaks

or elms

or pines

My mind is different.

My mind is quiet.

Here on Hammock Hill.