Morning breaks softly and slowly now
As the sun through the clouds meekly peeks..
Nothing at all seems to move about
Up here in this warm and quiet hut.
Inside there is peace and calm and solitude
Like it's been these past few weeks
Save for the wood fire that slowly burns
And the water boiling in the pot.
And I look out yonder
Towards the long and narrow creek
Just below the green, sloping hillock and
Over to where the old, rusting water mill,
Now hidden by the bushes, once churned.
Yet nothing stirs. I hear no one speak.
Even the wind is quiet today as life,
For a while, seems to be at a standstill.