Easy and composed
Retired in some place
Containing its mood
From urging its pace

Shoulders and neck
Are much more at rest
When numbers are small
And grasp you, I shall

And then
I breathe
Intone
And I rest…

Alone,
I breathe
Intone
And I rest…

Fingers clap. Snap!
Was it my turn,
Add my tepid talk
To the rowdy flock?

I care only to loose
Myself in reserve
If waves around clash
I leave in mild thoughts

And then
I breathe
Intone
And I rest…

Alone,
I breathe
Intone
And I rest…