It Is Quiet
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And I stand among the trees listening,
to bird songs drifting when I notice a tall white Egret;
resting on one leg in the marsh, hesitant to put down both feet.
It's a lovely day with fluffy, white clouds dancing across a blue sky,
and the marsh is lush and verdant, with long-bladed grasses,
it is then, I hear the wail of baby birds.
The mother silently, quiets her babies,
and she steps into the shadows, blending into the cattails;
I ponder this siting and conclude it a harbinger of good tidings.
perhaps the beginning of a new endeavor, an idea to start anew,
the babies representing the birth of ideas, and trying and doing,
then I turn away, and wake in my bed.
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November 25, 2016
Poetry/Verse/It Is Quiet
Copyright Protected, 16-852-819-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2016
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