Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Evensong

Whatever else may happen,
there is a peace in standing silent in a twilight wood listening to Spring Peepers sing their love songs from an unseen forest pool. 

Last year's age-softened beech leaves cushion the ground beneath my feet. Cool air flows around me like water around a rock in a stream. All is hushed except the singing frogs. And then above them a deep soft voice flows from the trees. 

An owl spirit
summons the night
and my senses settle
calm among the branches
holding above me the silver half-circle
of a first quarter moon. 

I breath slowly, listening.
My air joins the wind
and lifts my praise.

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