G.R. Gaus (April 11 1950 / St. Louis)
Oh gentle breeze, whisper in my ear,
Your origin, I know not where,
In the dust, you suddenly appear,
Then rushing off, without a care.
Billowing clouds rise in the west,
Low rumble, echoing through me,
Beginning on, a long lonely quest,
Most beautiful, wild and free.
Forest filled with living things,
Hidden safely within its walls,
Each one hears as silence sings,
Her song, of reassurance, calls.
A spring appears beneath a stone,
From some deep darkened vein,
Secret source remains unbeknown,
Into a pool, becomes domain.
Mule Deer browse in quiet grace,
Stepping softly, glancing around,
Overlooking their visible space,
Aware of all, that makes a sound.
Silent sounds heard everywhere,
Few humans stop to listen,
Caught within the city's snare,
Never knowing what their missin.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Silent Sounds by G.R. Gaus )
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