A Pattern for Silence
There is a pattern for silence
In the way I walk through
A hair stand of ponderosas
Blocks the sounds of the world
At five thousand feet
Above sea level
Unimportant sea level
Where I preferred the water
At the bottom of my shower
With the sound of the creek
Clacking boulders in the night
The sliding door open
To the lower lawn
A yawn fighting the shake
Of shoulders
Barry G. Wick
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