Sunday, February 6, 2011

Trees Only Grow

Rain showers pass with banks of rumbling clouds,
thunder grumbles in the distance;
it is Sunday afternoon with the world,
all is still, but eager flowers
burst up from the ground
and busy swallows catch mosquitoes
for their hungry fledglings.

Sunday afternoon:
but the conscience of the world
is restless and uneasy,
traffic noises tell me,
crowded places to eat and drink,
burgeoning casinos.

Sunday afternoon:
leaves each with her own voice
rustle in the wind
surge like the sea
and trees,
for cradles or crosses,
only grow.

1 comment:

  1. Greetings from Southern California :-)

    I added myself to follow your blog. You are more than welcome to visit mine and become a follower if you want to.

    God Bless You, ~Ron