Pieces of Joy

Photo by David Vig on Unsplash

It is not your friend,
on a branch
a small piece of ribbon hangs

There in the breeze
and then none at all

A hum of silence

piles of paper
and unread books

Joy comes in different mediums
your sense does not pause

you lay in the thick grass
watching tops of trees

It is not your friend,
questioning your own
patterns of incremental pieces
which you try to explain

before you a pool
a lake of placidity

Still, the sun sits
as you do

Again you wait
you wait to hear the breeze