A Trail Through Gray and Brown
Leaving tended gardens behind,
following a trail through fields
of tall prairie grasses
and woods latticed with
arches of almost bare limbs
in hibernating birth;
a trail of gray and brown, muted green
undertones and flecks of yellow holding on like
small dabs of paint on canvas.
A trail down to the river.
Mulched pieces, gravel
for feet to walk,
to follow, to find
the silence of the other, the
non-sound – defined by what it is not.
Down to the river, small
but swiftly moving, silently, a liquid
emerald coursing in silence through its
channel, older than
faith.
Silence: the measure of what is.
Sound: the measure of what is not.
(Photos taken at Shaw's Nature Reserve, Nov. 28, 2009. Top photo is of the Outlook Trail, facing north. Bottom photo is of the Meramec River, facing south.)
5 comments:
Every Sunday morning I come here to find such gifts. This is one of your most beautiful poems, Glynn. I like everything about it, especially as you place your words against these perfect images.
I am stilled reading of "the silence of the other, the non-sound - defined by what it is not." I am quieted as I walk the trail to find "Silence: the measure of what is." I am filled as I listen to the "Sound: the measure of what is not." Indeed, to find what is "older than / faith."
Gorgeous.
"Deep calls unto deep at the noise of Your waterfalls;All Your waves and billows have gone over me." Psalm 42:7
Deep poetic imagery silently shouts the beauty and echoes the majesty of His creation.
Thank you Glynn.
"in hibernating birth ..." what hope lies in those words.
beautiful words
and i really like perspective and shadows in the top photo
beautiful, Glynn. Now that's some wisdom from nature.
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