It is in not speaking
but listening instead
It is in giving a fistful of wild lilacs
to a crestfallen stranger
and not needing anyone
to give you anything
today
It is in the seamless art
of living quietly,
considering clouds,
like A. E Houseman,
and not lugging boulders
or heavier opinions
when the earth is already
too heavy
The yellowtail butterflies do it
everyday
It is in not needing readers,
recognition, or praise,
when you love yourself
and trust the wind to sway
your hammock of gentle
existence
back and forth,
back and forth
The albino deer drew
admirers
He never asked for them
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