Whispers of the Wild

A Poetic Ode to Nature’s Eternal Symphony

Beneath the emerald canopy,
and the sun dances amidst branches,
a thousand murmurs rise like mist
Song of roots, Sigh of trees.

The river hums its silver hymn
each ripple a note, each curve rime
timeless hands working polishing stones
story by etching sands of time.

Pinesshiverto the gusted sewing-of needle —
stitching clouds into cobalt blue
Singing in the cedars | Choirs of eavesdropping feathers,
Goodbye Hymns of the dawn and twilight.

Home: moss is a cradle for the earth,
so fragile and verdant, such a soft bed.
Every dewdrop clings precariously
To the silence of a full world.

Mountains with their wreaths of mist
and lofting all the way to heaven
They harbor the vibrations of nature,
Strong as stone, soft as love

And in this silence I am part —
Temporary lightning borrowed breath
Some of this immortal endless song
which ties all life to life, with death

The alphabets of nature soothe, and scorn;
as all who would stop and listen:
Even in quick divinity,
A part of all that lives and grows.