A quest for the perfect,
take the slow road.
Wend your way improvisationally.
Resist the mecca.
Anchor the sprawling quiet,
Bathe in the protected Harbor.
The next worthwhile stop is home.
At any point: you.
[a found poem from a National Parks clipping, page 44]
I’m not quite clear on the process, but the poem is very good and makes a great pitch for being in the quiet moment.