I Wonder
There is a whisper through the wind
a sort of haunting
yet charming thing.
A quiet flutter
from an old oak tree
while cricket's
perfect rhythm
replenish the land
I sit by placidly
as if seized by a dream,
closing my eyes:
I wonder
and wonder
and wonder
but I'll never know
Copyright © Allen Beilschmidt Sr. | Year Posted 2019
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