Changes
For now, the air is still.
The birds sing it so.
The trees show it so.
The earth lies quiet in its shell.
Leaves no longer shutter.
What sits aground stays.
The earth's heart beats on.
But that is all. That is all.
The tiny boat moves not.
Its sails hang motionless.
Its wake no longer is.
Its bow no longer cuts.
But all know winds will come.
And calm will be no more.
For change is counted on.
And different air will blow.
And all pray for the better.
All seek steady breezes.
Changes inevitable
will come in their own season.
Here for their own reasons.
Copyright © David Brooks | Year Posted 2016
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