A Country Lane Welcomes Me

Between golden-brown stalks

in their final hour

and boisterous blooms of baby’s breath

The color of clouds,

A sweeping silence came upon me.


It’s strange how full the sound of silence is,

Like the autumn maple

How deep & broad like the sea,

How patient and warm

I suppose they all share the primordial whisper

Passed on seed by seed,

Year by year,

That those with ears within

Delicate enough

can hear:

“Be and Be welcome”


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