Sounds…Ever…Green


the village people 2

there is a silver living to the white noise of a forest

a unique manner that pulls static from air

tender, invisible touches…slowing a harried way

I could stand in the ever green of nothingness…

not knowing if sound or sight has gone or stayed

how rare it is to take notice of the peace?

and, if I were to take my weathered hand to scoop ease away…

pocket the quiet grace for another kind of sway?

brooding crickets, settling leather tree trunks…

could seek refuge in the silence

all respite would fall from compliance…

leaving no room for another day

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