listening
with the wind gone
and the water dead calm
I can hear the sounds of
the morning --
small birds chattering in
the mangroves,
a whippoorwill whistling
from farther away,
a seagull’s melancholy cry.
there’s water gurgling from
several
air-conditioned boats nearby,
and the distant clatter
of an anchor being raised,
random voices ashore
as some hikers pass by on a
morning walk,
a dinghy engine roaring
suddenly into use
and then dying away again
just as quickly,
splash along the shoreline
as the ripple from a
far-away wake crosses the harbor…
does it do any good
to listen so intently to
the world?
does it serve any purpose?
I hope it re-tunes my
heart.
maybe it even helps the
world somehow,
just to be heard.
tuesday 19 april
easter 2016
Biras Creek, Virgin Gorda
Biras Creek, Virgin Gorda
Oh yes--the sounds of a place are sometimes the most memorable part. So glad you set it to verse. And about the bees--such a parable in giving them what they needed/wanted instead of rejecting them because you don't need or want them. Such a parable.
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