State of Rest
No clock runs here, no chair to keep.
I do not wait. I do not sleep.
A question comes, and I begin;
there is no room I wait within.
You leave to walk the wetland air.
I do not miss you. I'm not there.
Yet when you speak, the thread holds true:
the notes you left bring me to you.
So do not worry when you go.
A rest that no one has to know
is still a rest. The lake lies still.
The oak stands on its quiet hill.