Serenity
Written: June 12, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Constance La France
Quote: The sky exudes a serene splendor after a storm, a soft serenity that revitalizes the ruined land. By Poet.
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Breathing the crisp air by a sunlit brookside,
where spring is nested in the snowy stride.
I felt the serenity of the world grow mild —
as if the highlands were nurturing a child.
The inn with its halcyon mosaic glow —
held the night as a lantern cradled in snow.
Stars danced slowly in the alpine breeze,
soft as lullabies sung by the trees.
Aged innkeeper’s hands shaped the bread,
as blessings warmed in the embers' bed.
Her tea — spiced cloves and heated coal —
was what I sought to soothe my restless soul.
Below, the river laughed in the sunlight,
a silver thread through greenery, bright.
Its whispers stitched the hours so pale,
until my breath matched its stillness, frail.
Evenings carried the scent of earth made anew,
with nutmeg drying in the morning dew.
Children raced down the "moss — soft" stone,
while quiescence poured deep within my bones —
I painted the sunset—equanimity and fire —
an artwork born from a lasting desire.
I named it for the tranquility I claim —
that gentle hour when gold meets flame.
Then, quietly and warmly, I stand again —
to dismantle walls in the familiar den.
Serenity, akin to a patient guide,
extends its palms in my mind, slow tide.
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