Morning’s Quiet Times
In the quiet of the morning, I can hear
the dew falling from the leaves; the wind flow
through the blue jay’s wings. Not even a breeze talks
in the woods; a skink rustles through dry grass.
The forest so still I can hear rain walking
through the trees. When snow caresses the ground,
the earth is silent.
The quiet between ocean waves:
time for one lone thought.
Peregrine
April 2017
