Setting at the steel deck-table on the veranda that runs from wall to wall of this little cottage on stilts, affording a view beyond the panoramic. Listening and thinking, I try to mentally record the sights and sounds that envelope me, body and soul. I try to absorb it like the desert welcomes a flash flood, absent for so long. I can feel the atmosphere breaking down my barriers that have shielded me from the crushing forces of the stress that have dominated my life for the past year. The nutrients that only the mind can be revived from, peace and quiet. Also, from this nature surrounding me, like the one I have found myself in this week.

The stilted house I have named home for the past days and the next few, is located about one-hundred feet from the western street it faces. The veranda, also in the same latitude as the avenue, lords over the walking trail of which, runs parallel to the same on the nearest side. Both conveniences are busy with occasional passers-bye. As reference to the traffic, about every minute or two; it’s a veritable freeway at the pace of a sloth. The coast-line is just a block and a half to the south, it is either the destination or their retreating lane to and from that local.

I hear birds so abundant all around me and of too many different varieties to attempt to list them all here. The whistles, chirps and songs are like a melodic harmonious tonic for my sole.

The trees are everywhere and of the Black Oak variety, along with their ever present companions, the shrubs of Purple Anise. These wild organic residents are loosing their multi-colored leaves, spinning and twisting to the ground. This is due to the record snow fall a couple weeks ago. They had received more snow than anytime over the past one-hundred years. It has reaped a toll they have not paid for so very long.

From my short experience, it seems the pace never really quickens here. Some places just have a speed about them and the inhabitants just fall into step with it as though not caring to alter the set state of the mood for which can only be described as a quiet bliss.

One cannot buy this atmosphere, you can only stumble upon it and best to accept it as it is. If you tried to change it, it would collapse under the attempted alteration. Like moving a baby bird from the safety of its nest much too early, and it would die…

Long sought I, of peace and solstice.

Wondering through clouds and shrouds.

Haplessly feeling for substance and stability.

The darkness, the noise, all encompassing.

Leading not to path, a trail, nor justice.

Stopping, I try to still the chaos.

Motionless, I stand against this world of mine.

Absorbing this moment, it opens my eyes.

Fore what I have sought.

Has been with me all the time.