You can’t define a peaceful frame of mind
In terms of states observable.
But if you could, you might try this:
A grassy slope, yourself reclined
A summer crop of people ripened right behind.
On one cheek the heat of evening sunshine
Still burns hard
On the other whips a chill nocturnal breeze –
You are the evening.
Your face is twilight.
Your nose the border between the Republic of Day
And the Kingdom of Nightfall.
The very air inhaled must show its passport
To move from glaring colour’s bloom
Into the comfort promised to the night’s caccoon.