WHYGARDEN eighteen
I have grown used
to the silence and freedom of being alone.
Thought travels through water,
through air,
through time.
A brief wind strikes the edge of the earth.
Small lights in the dark
cross mountains and valleys
until the room learns again
how to breathe in quiet tones.
At this very moment,
hail falls over the city
near the end of May.
Weather changes without warning,
yet the inward world
still keeps its own order of light and dark.
Mute the noise around you.
Listen carefully.
The quiet heart has been speaking all along.
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Time Well Wasted in Spring Light
If we never make time for the seemingly useless, how are we to spend our finite lives?
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Spring Stirs Above the Clouds
If noise is not your way of life, enjoy the quiet of answering only to yourself.
