This poem is about nature. As i sit out in my backyard gazing at a bush blowing in the wind and rain i am in awe of its beauty, and serenity.
The bush fluttered through the breeze
breathless, as if no wind had spoken,
the leaves floating on air as if silence
had scattered them above the ground below,
scattering calmness to each stem
that listens to the call.
The bush has been there for years, still, blowing,
directing me to stare into the spreading leaves,
the branches hearing the call blow along silently,
with the sun shining between them,
filled with the mystery of the wind.
Paul Hickey
11-7-11
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