In honor of B*'s comment to my earlier post today and Prof. Me's stomach churning, here's a poem of mine from way back when.
Calm as a Breeze (5/28/92)
I am calm now,
gentle as a breeze that is hardly felt,
who wafts silent odors of budding roses
and rosemary leaves from a distance of miles.
Now I am that breeze,
and my song is that of tiny birds,
together in a nest,
waiting, almost patiently, for worms;
but not worms of pain and sorrow,
worms of satisfaction,
worms of delight, delicacies;
for tiny birds, as children,
who sing a song of their own choosing,
can find delicacies and beauty in all things.