Besting.
Repetitive cooing of an un-mated wood pigeon
seems so tenderly moving.
An amalgam of voices making dinner-time chat
sounds surprisingly soothing.
Mesmerizingly restful an incoming tide swishing
on stones in covert beaches.
And agreeably pleasant the motorised greeting
of blooms by afternoon bees.
Rhythmical rocking of rails on fast trains might
quickly my mind hypnotize.
Resonance trembles from waterfalls dropping
to vibrational silence.
And what of those somnolent tocks after the
ticks from my grandfather clock
Or the continuous sizzle as near-boiling my
kettle sings on kitchen hob.
Those crackles from logs on after-work fires
are so warmly relaxing.
As is the swish of home-winging birds when
rain makes tuneful splish and splash.
Or Summer\'s light murmur of night-wind\'s
quiet passing through leafy trees.
Yet none of these soothing rhythms come
near besting the best for me.
The most precious of sounds and gentlest
are the whispers of sleeping contentment
in your peaceful breath next to my breast