A Silent Paean I love the way the green leaves dance In old, tall shade trees; the grass blades swinging in the wind, the birds sweetly chirping. God, a piece of heaven here, idyllic-- All but for the man-made sounds of Mowers lawning, edgers ringing, Cars combusting. Join me in a quiet prayer that trees, Old souls that they are, will always be here With their own silent paean to the cosmic rule Of Universe. A rule they state, crystal clear, in light of their own being: Insistent growth toward giving Life of Light that holds The promise; blueprint plan unfolding while clinging roots Deepen. Randy Guess ©1999 [How Could I Ask For More?] [When Leaves Fall]    [About The Poet]    [Short-Timer] [A Sweeter Dragon Flame]     [The Devil and the Fourth of July] [Wrestling Hemingway]     [Wiggleworm] [A Silent Paean]    [Rainbow Color Reality] [Hear The Mountains Calling] [Fair and Moldy Muse]     [Ode to a Scottish Lass] [A Matter of Time]    [Understanding Anne Sexton] [In Praise of Earth and Sky and Sea] [Home]   [Poetry]   [Short Stories] [Quotes]   [Philosophy]   [Biographies] [Links]   [Copyright]   [Contact]    [Site Index] <top>