Friday, July 13, 2012

I Hear Past the Din to the Air

That whips at hair for attention.
Blaring cars
Barking dogs
Laughing kids
Are all in sense but not in sight
Lending vision to the trees
And a soul to see its way
Toward inspiration and industry
Down the hidden trail. I go.

Unexpected, I have found my place
Among the rocks that send water cascading
Down their face to build pools that cool my own,
That rise high with sunny and shaded surface
For either satisfaction.

The whirl I thought the wind
Turned out to be the stream,
Hidden beauty I never knew,
Blooming laurel I thought I’d missed,
Catawba flower alive past its season.
I walk to find that I am much more wrong.

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