Silence on a hill where the path endedand then the forest belowmoving in one long whisperas evening touched the leaves.
Silence on a hill where the path ended and then the forest below moving in one long whisper as evening touched the leaves.
. . . You were aimed from birth:you will never be alone. Rainwill come, a gutter filled, an Amazon,long aisles -- you never heard so deep a sound,moss on rock, and years. You turn your head --that's what the silence meant: you're not alone. The whole wide world pours down.
. . . You were aimed from birth: you will never be alone. Rain will come, a gutter filled, an Amazon, long aisles -- you never heard so deep a sound, moss on rock, and years. You turn your head -- that's what the silence meant: you're not alone. The whole wide world pours down.
You and I can turn and look at the silent river and wait. We know the current is there, hidden; and there are comings and goings from miles away that hold the stillness exactly before us. What the river says, that is what I say.