Calm Days

The wind dies down into still,
flows settle their movement until,
shaking gentle bristle leaves paint sky,
clouds swirl around up high,
although the far distance set,
water colours cloud the wet,
curled wings of bird darken spots,
represented by curves and dots,
shadows brush the ground from light,
creating beauty from something flat white,
never named the world in which we see,
because it calms both you and me.