Peaceful Now Poem by Rebecca Dobson

Peaceful now.
peaceful like an artist's sunday brushstroke,
a cat's eyelid,
a baby's milky, satiated rest.
Peaceful now.
peaceful like the creeping sunrise
(fuscia, orange, mauve)
Like steam rising from a teacup,
like toes in hot sand.
Peaceful now,
like the drips of rain that fall from april's sodden trees,
like the sound of silence,
like the brink, teetering on the edge of dreams.
Peaceful now,
peaceful like the final sighs of life and the first of death,
and how they watercolour merge as one.
Peaceful now,
peaceful like a dog in full sun,
an old man leaning on his spade,
a writer's full stop.
peaceful now,
like a library's heavy, paper-weighted quiet, thick with dust,
the anti-sound when disturbance ceases,
and the ears ring with silence.
Peaceful now,
like the night time walk,
and softly, softly, traced figure eights
on sweaty skin.
Peaceful now.