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.