There It Was

Every day,

a new ache,

a new wonder,

and in the balance

I find,

the stirring of some song,

whispered close,

filled with the scent

of wysteria,

the arbor dripping with blooms,

as we played beneath.

 

I stopped to listen,

and there it was,

the song of everything,

singing.

DSC_0168Photo: Leigh Pumilia

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