There’s something to be said for the way calm comes,

how it unfurls at dawn, braves the darkness to meet us.

How it finds us when we need it most.

It descends in unlikely places, cued by the slightest invitation:

the bright peal of a child’s laughter at the dog chasing its tail,

the memory of a time of dancing, days of youth wild in their potential.

It comes when we are engulfed by the wonder

of the splash of green field outside the car window,

the reminder that seasons come and go.

It comes despite what is lost. It needs little.

A smile is exchanged between strangers,

their eyes reaching like hands toward one another

in the grocery aisle, words hanging in the air like beautiful notes.

“You first. “

“No, please, I insist.”

“Thank you.”

Listen! How it cushions with mere words our sudden plunge into chaos.

Like the spring flowers, it blooms,

spreads its petals in all directions, bright and fragrant,

is carried by the wind even down

the darkest fear-filled alleys of our hearts.