Quietude, only the chimes on the back porch sing slightly . . . .


The morn arises in silent meditation the sky dimly lit,

Contemplation the order of this tiny time of renaissance,

Moments of reflection had upon certain daily dilemmas,

Tranquility found in these perfect seconds of consideration,

Accord with the cosmos secreted in the silence of serenity . . . .


The birds sing

As gradually the sounds

of nature’s overture commences.







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georgeschaefer's picture

chimes and pomes--perfect

chimes and pomes--perfect together.  Good poem