The silence of the forest is not the silence of the empty classroom, the teacher bent over
his desk grading papers, a book open to page 202, a soft breeze blowing through a crack
in the window. It is not the city at 3 AM, a residential street, everyone asleep, the cat
leaning into the grass to nap. The forest is the love song of the loons, the call of the
killdeer, the sigh of a breeze passing through the leaves, the first fish surprised by a
development of legs pushing itself out of the water into the tall grass where the crickets
tell the temperature and the grasshoppers play in the leaf. The opera of the trees is just
that grand, the wind that perfect, the harmony of the birds exactly right.
_______________From my 2011 collection, I Was a Teacher Once & Other Philosophies, published by Ten Pages Press
| Copyright © 2022 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively. |
This signal of Mother Nature's developmental ages sent me into the stratosphere to gaze upon the planet from a-far and a-long:
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development of legs pushing itself out of the water
Moristotle here. That was me above; I can't comment via sign-on from my iPhone, but I discovered I can accomplish an anonymous comment. Can anyone reading this explain how I can comment via sign-on from my iPad, but not from my iPhone? The latter is a lot snazzier than the former, with its three photo lenses (plus its selfie lens).
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