In The Quiet Mind

2002

I love the warmth of the sun with a touch of breeze,

The numbing green of the trees' leaf.

 

Can you hear them,

All of em' ?

 

They sound like the rushing water,

An Ocean against the shore.

 

Light pierces through them and

Tickles the rocks and grass blades.

 

I'm thinking, this is where I go to think;

Smell the air--can you taste it?

 

Not a thing; no rust, no distraction--just air.

No wait...

There is a sort of sweetness to it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© 2001-2006 Eric Ridge