That blessed happy medium where the pendulum gets to rest,
to wait,
to pause
between the rising swell of inhale
and that resultant rush of exhale to find peace again at the bottom.
It’s the crisp glow of dawn, the muted tones of dusk,
a place of progression,
a stopgap en route to future tense.
An inch or two away from ebb, and just falling short of flow,
It prefers colour within the lines.
It sounds like a hum, a herm, an ahem,
a hesitation where brain can catch up and find the followthrough,
those thoughts that come next.
Though, it’s unconcerned what comes next.
Because here is where it’s at.