The Poetry of Nature
Morning Meditation
Perfect quiet is the canvas
on which the sounds of nature (and man)
are brushed.
Churring of a lone cricket,
harmonized by the buzzing and whirring
of unknown insects.
Coyote pack yips and barks
howling
its early morning joy.
A car, in the distance
with no muffler.
Then, total silence.
Now, the train’s mournful cry
steel on rails, like a meditation gong.
I listen until the sound is only a memory.
Then, silence returns.
Then, whinny of screech owl,
hoots of barred owl.
A rooster crows.
Pinpricks of stars
in a black velvet sky
give way to soft, misty light.
Coffee sends fragrant
curlicues of steam
into my nostrils.
Dogs bark.
Cows low.
Another train.
Perfect silence.
I hear a single leaf fall to the ground.
It has let go, as I must.
My mantra — “Not always so.”
Morning meditation.
