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