Spring is silent

Yet I am no fool

To the bee’s numerous labors

Or the hunter’s hoggish hungers

Activity set in cyclical motion

Perpetuated by early sun’s resurrection

Those dew-kissed mornings

It is the season of reset

So if you pacify the crazed mind

There is room for rushing water

In now sensitive ears

Gossiping fallen leaves

Become my terror

Whispers of neighboring pines

Are my greatest disturber

Spring is silent in the night

Eyes are my failure

So high winds become navigator

Drooping spruce

A paintbrush of evening skylines

It’s hanging branches like closing drapes

Where nature has built a place for slumber

Auditory showers lull this tired figure

But drowsiness is not my silencer

I can now admire

Soundless melodies spring requires

So I may entangle finger tips

With that of younger trees

In age discrepancies

Damp dirt filters over me

As part of this whole

I’ve come to know

As a night in silent spring