Upon this clear and glassy, deep, blue water,
Gliding effortless, across the spanse,
Spied by only towering mountain spires,
Gazing down upon my silent dance.
No piercing sound, no ticking time, no meter,
Save the sturdy oar-sluice thru the deep,
Keeping steady, though unhurried, rhythm,
Matching true my heart’s unwavering beat.
And soaring silent ‘mid the wafting thermals,
Red-tailed hawk aloft rejoins his seeking,
He, in his silent space, observes acutely,
And I, in mine, can hear my spirit speaking.
The sounds of silence all too oft forsaken,
Alone in nature’s temple, reawakened.
Photo Friday: #Silence
It’s amazing how much one can hear when one chooses to listen, away from the noisy hustle bustle of our everyday lives