I stand at the mountaintop

raising the quiet hand of surrender.

Fighting is well & good,

stand your ground & all that,

but then, there comes a time--

I curl up like a cat

& let the boulders fall on me

like cotton balls--

there is no one here to battle--

I am a floating cloud

drifting across the plains

of the heart.

Oh how expansive are the views from this place of peace!

Oh sweet ball of curled fur,

when will you spring up from your slumber?

The cat's sleep remains undisturbed,

& and the blue bird in the tree

sings its song of joy.