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Poem

The forest floor stretches drum tight, bound by verdant slopes, a timpani of sound.
First greeters of rain’s onslaught, leaves trill joy, form larger drops, a deeper sound

While tires rumble freeways flowing through suburban sprawl like spring flashflood
That envelopes older, gravely rich, established enclave’s tombstones. Gurgles sound

That rival reverberations of a symphony hall, canyon walls full of a halcyon praise.
Nature mutes personal pain, music of motion scoring modern hallelujahs in sound,

Though rainbows, ocean tides, and tidal frictions in lunar crust, also have a voice.
These vibrations only felt by enraptured souls, that are so unlike an infant’s sound,

Season earth with salty song. As mans’ voice rises into space, a lullaby harmonizes,
To any God with ears to hear, a strong echo, “It is good!” our praise colored sound!

Brian Johnston
April 25, 2015

Poet’s Notes:

A Ghazal is a poem of 5-8 couplets with one repeating word (at the end of each stanza) and a hidden reference to my name in the last stanza. This poem has two Easter Eggs as I call them, inside of it, my name and a bit of personal information. Can you find it?

PS: You may not believe me but I swear that there are real sounds associated with both rainbows and tides in case you wondered. They are just beyond our human hearing range in frequency and also very weak.

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