Mother Wit

Mother Wit It chooses to whisper Having endured shouting decades Feigned listening Maelstrom's noise Left behind Is but a parade Just married tin cans Tied to mankind's bumper How circular the process Sitting atop time's tree house This place of early discoveries Where dos and don'ts became but chaff Covering kernels of slow growing wisdom Where innocence washed down Curiosity's adult fantasies Ala clandestine Smirnoff watermelon Now Hearing tiny sparrows Nesting high above Chirping hunger pangs Awaiting mother and worm Below The squirrel rustling through Acorns Pausing Listening to It While listening to itself A smile envelops the moment As far as the eye can see Roof tops recede As conifers take their rightful place Hosting fowl and predator alike Hoping this stand of nature's essence Will not be a last stand In the distance Heavy earth moving sounds Pause to be absorbed Swallowed by evergreen Rock Life Nature's patience It whispers As It knows For all who'll hear The ancient sound The BCE echo for many The Big Bang frequency for others Peace Tranquility Prescience Hears not noise Discerns not silence But embraces the quintessential Everything That Is Nothingness In disguise Dare listen