The Act of Being

You dream. Long walks in the off-season.
Your hand in hers. Quiet conversation.
Sometimes silence, the demons put to sea,
left to drift, perhaps even to die.

Or not.

Either way, there is peace
in the touch of skin. The movement together.
the act, not of action, but of being.
You dream.

About this poem

Sometimes, we do too much. Sometimes, simply being is healing, strengthening, powerful beyond measure.

The picture was taken on Cape Cod.

Tom