This burned ground
Hides life beneath it
Even as it speaks
Of death

There was a quiet
Once
A place free of metal crashing
Of voices in their fell cacophony
A place of calm

I remember the grasses bending
And the trees swaying
And the bees humming

I remember the way the air smelled
Its sweetness
Its earthiness

I remember the warm sun on my skin
A pleasant heat on my eyes
That took away so much I did not need

There was a quiet
Once
I wish to find it
Guide me?

I find myself wishing
For simplicity
And wishing
For all the minutia
The little rules that don’t matter
The bounds we have chosen to place
For no reason other than
The comfort of rulers

To go away
And leave me
In peace

That I might walk the paths trodden
And untrodden
That I might hear the stories known
And unknown
That I might learn the truths spoken
And unspoken
That I might see the sights seen
And unseen

This is my wish

Let me sit in the quiet
Without a question or demand
From the world outside
Without the leading and needling
Toward things I do not need
For I need no more
Than what I already have

As I sit surrounded
Amidst wood planks
Crackled pages
Chipping paint
Tall trees

I wonder what stories they have seen
What lives they have witnessed
All before my time

Quiet do the leaves fall
Soft comes the snow
Breathless does the grey come
And hide away the sun

And though the winter’s quiet
Is deafening
It is not nearly so much
As the resounding orchestra

Of spring