Within A Quietude

within a quietude

as I walk, rise

disturbing

little sounds.

A frame

for my breath,

traffic noise

on one side,

broken waves

on the other,

small echoes

ricochet inside

this universe.

my bare feet slap

against wood,

trouser cloth brushing

against itself,

leg hair, ankle skin.

clicks and ticks

a knife cuts

mushrooms, onion,

tomato

on a board,

and a cold fork

scrapes a pan.

smells rise,

to hold, caress

soft stillness.

my refrigerator

opens, the door seal

pops and hisses,

grip released,

I watch my hand

push containers

looking for solutions,

I’m not sure

this food

will be right,

or enough.