…my shelf of peace…

This is my ledge
of quiet,
my shelf of peace,
edged
by its crooked rails
holding back the beyond.
Above,
a hawk sails
high
to challenge clouds
trespassing
my plot of sky.
Below
in the valley
remote and dim,
sounds
come and go,
a requiem
for quiet.
Here on my ledge,
quiet praise:
of birds,
crickets,
breeze –
in different ways;
and so do I –
for these:
my ledge of quiet,
my plot of sky;
for peace.

from Sitting by My Laughing Fire by Ruth Bell Graham (Word Books, 1977)