Eavesdropping

listen

I’ve heard the stream

and the old stones whispering

beneath the cedars.

I swear the hills are breathing.

Listen…

On a still winter night,

the darkness is filled

with a quiet, electric hum…

the language of the stars.

Who can transcribe this conversation

between the earth and sky?

Who can say what wordless exchange

takes place among the trees?

Who can understand what passes silently

from the wild, beating heart of the world,

into my pensive soul?

 

© 2015 Ben Neal