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this small valley lies hidden
between factories and houses.
yet deep within it
a path of god.
in the distance
trucks rumble
and cars argue with the quiet.
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i close my ears to these
far off voices
and imagine
keeing hawk
whom i know is here.
rotting trees felled by
age and weather,
talking slowly of the
immense and deliberate
walk of time.
breathing grasses,
heart beat of rocks,
blood flowing through
veins of fields.
brooding clouds
and thunder mingling with
the roar of the near by
highway.
countless dramatic struggles
beneath dead leaves
ending small
and valuable lives,
preparing the woods
for this growing day.
