In A Still Silence

Out of a dark November night,

Carrying a feeling that something is not right,

I run in chills into the cold hills,

Until I stop at a flat rock and sit with cold wet feet,

But now in my heart sings a song warm and sweet,

Embraced by the wild sense in valleys of frosted grass,

in the cry of geese as they pass,

In the bound of a deer, after we came so near,

In the glint on frozen sumac and bush clover,

in the chatter of sparrows over and over

By a pond’s glimmering, I turn off my simmering,

In the bright warm sunning, where I quit my running,

In the breath of a breeze, in it all, is the wild’s sense of ease,

As the old hills hold me, in a still silence.