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Poem

The ideal time to record a citing is when you see it,
Because it seems that everything out there in God's                                                                                                
vast domain is on the move and never waits for the mood.
But it's better to share something later than nothing at all.

Some three hours ago, around the 4 AM hour, I looked
out the windows.  Facing the West, there was only DARKNESS.
I then proceeded to my Southern window and saw plenty of STARS.
The BLACKENED SKY waved at me, and the host of stars shouted, "Hello!"
But what captures me most both day and night is the SOUND of the WIND.

The site of pure darkness, back-grounding a host of stars, is not a trivial matter. Moreover, when heaven's art museum opens your eyes, your ears require a melody. In this rural land of beans, corn, cotton and rice, the songs are nice and varied. Incased within a Meca of TREES, WETLANDS, and a few SWAMPS, this area of trees provides plenty of fuel that encourages the wind to sing songs to me.

She sings what and when she wants to, and allows my heart to blend with her melody. She's pure and natural, requiring no assistance from chimes. She replaces with great taste the cites of big city lights, and the dreadful sounds of sirens. And when she sings, unlike city sirens, no one is hurting.  And unlike sirens, she's healing me.

When I consider this day's DAWNING, I am reminded again of the great balance of NATURE. The darkness, the starry night, and the whispering sounds, all felt right at home.  And so did I.

050622PSCtest, Your Favorite Poem From The First Half Of 2022, Julia Ward

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