The Quiet Place
The well-pruned trees, with their limbs pruned
close to the trunk appeared in the distance
as sentinels guarding the entrance to the past.
The columns and headstones stand as
bitter/sweet memories of those
loved and lost.
In this eerie silence surrounded by the oaks,
you can almost hear the murmur
of voices that told you the
differences of right and wrong
or let’s go do something.
Here, it is peaceful
save for the low hum of traffic in the distance.
Here, you hear the birds singing
praises to the unseen God.
Remember where you came from,
and to where you will return.
Take notice.
Someday, someone will hear your voice.
Excerpt from “A Part of Things”
The well-pruned trees, with their limbs pruned
close to the trunk appeared in the distance
as sentinels guarding the entrance to the past.
The columns and headstones stand as
bitter/sweet memories of those
loved and lost.
In this eerie silence surrounded by the oaks,
you can almost hear the murmur
of voices that told you the
differences of right and wrong
or let’s go do something.
Here, it is peaceful
save for the low hum of traffic in the distance.
Here, you hear the birds singing
praises to the unseen God.
Remember where you came from,
and to where you will return.
Take notice.
Someday, someone will hear your voice.
Excerpt from “A Part of Things”