A

flower

blooms

at

its

time

as

do

we

all

Sky

edges

brown

like

apple

crisp

at

sunset

days

end

sound

congeal

to

whispering

tree

birds

twilights

comforter

draws

west

quickly

cooling

torso

of

night

eyes

close

to

moonlight

Oh

to

be

birdlike

cherubic

and

angelic

seeing

tops

of

things

trees

houses

people

perhaps

when

I

pass

I’ll

come

back

as the

wind

silent

yet

moving

It is

this

deepest

jungle

dark

to which

I

awaken

giddyishly

excited

like

Christmas

morning

each

morning

to

set

mine

eyes

upon

the

surprises

of

the

Universe

It is

only in

my

silent

silence

do

I

hear

my

souls

loudest

loud

voice