>Silence….Somethin Sunday


I push through the brush to get
to the silence
There is a trail that I want to end
so I push until I can push no longer…
until the growth becomes a wall
No more folding back the forest floor
No more whipping twigs of green noise
A hemmed in silence as I stand like a bush
I am as silent as ivy
Standing, breathing out dioxide
Creations green
After light
After sea
After all
Before me
Come silence and contain
Solitary not lonely
A tributary to the bosom of heaven

4 thoughts on “>Silence….Somethin Sunday

  1. >"No more whipping twigs of green noise" – that is the best description I've ever read of walking through the underbrush."Come silence and contain solitary not lonely" – that is beautiful. Nature makes me feel this way, too – the original cathedral.Beautiful poem, Jerry.

Thanks for your time and thoughts.

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