Poems, Personals, and Commentary

Gift of Silence

The tawny hills with golden flecks
The summer’s air, the wilderness
The lazy buzzing of the bees
The grass that tickles calloused knees
The welcomeness of gentle breeze

All these and more my heart do swell
And then my soul says, “It is well”

The wilderness a sacrament
The vibrant stillness infinite
The wind that rustles in the trees
It seems that time will never cease

A window opens to a place
Which weary soul can now embrace
The gift of silence like to gold
My heart will ever, always hold

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