Today, I walked down the trail, looking up at the pines, unable to express what was happening inside of me. “Give me a poem, God,” I pleaded.
Pines, amber and green, slanting upward
Light spilling into gleaming bars
Silence steals from heart to mind, silence whispering;
Hush—for even the forest has a voice.
And across the blue and golden ranges
Forests lie unrobed in light’s un-aging glory
Rolling, far-flung, and rolling, further and rolling
Hush—for even the mountains have a voice.
Twilight lies low on the mountain’s edges
Pinks and blues, outlined on the ridges
Gray and blue; and gray fog rolls, sealing the night
Hush— for even the dusk has a voice.
The forest and the mountains cry out day after day
The dusk and the night shout of glory
The mind grows silent, the silent heart alive;
Hush—hush! Even your Maker has a voice.
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