The tree liftsbranches toThe One Beyond all noise of naming.Snow drifts down silence, Melts into earth,Disappears.Clouds wrap hushed grey cloaks Around our clamor; Stilling even loud ambassadorsOf death.
Silence has the last word—No word at all, but hum: spiral galaxies,chantingOmmmm….Beloved child of earthI AM for you. Come Home.
Rose Marie Quilter rscj March 2013
