Whitman’s Whisperings

The cars on the expressway a mile away

The squirrels rustling in the leaves nearby

The water moving in the pool beneath my feet

The airplane making its way across the sky

The gentle breeze whispering through the trees

The birds sing singing—I hear them all.

____

The wind chimes chiming

Human voices walking down the street

The breeze again, the cleansing breeze again

Sitting here feeling while reading Whitman that

That breeze is blowing over me

Blowing through me.

____

Blowing away the cares and worries of the day

Soul cleansing, Hearing awakened, Emotions summoned

Cicada twittering its song of taps

As the sun begins to set behind me

Throwing the shadow of my pen

On the paper journal I’m writing this in.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, 04/19/2016

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