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Tuesday, September 28, 2010



Rivers flow;
Moss grows;
Flowers bloom alongside.

Rocks are smoothed;

Fish gurgle
jumping in the afternoon sun.

Clouds whisper;
Fairies dance
as nature sprites
celebrate under trees.

Boughs sway
telling tales of old,
remembering the past
from peace to destruction.

Rocks listen and scream
trying to get our attention
as we walk right over them.

Winds blow upon our face
chilling our insights,
dulling our senses
so we no longer hear
the stories of old,
knowledge of the past,
wisdom of Mother Earth. 

Our memories are erased
only allowing us to
perceive the
sounds of silence....

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