Whispers

I could not hear
His voice in the hurried
Rush of the day.

With frets and fear
Pushing to the front of
The wild fray.

Buzzers and gears
Clanging, honking, roaring
In frenzied array.

I could not hear
His voice in the hurried
Rush of the day

When moonlight clear-
Ly bathes the world with calm
Soothing sweet saches,

Gentle woodland deer
Feed in quiet pastures
Near their Shepherd stay.

I could now hear
His whispers in the quiet
Hush of the day.

by Yvonne G. Blake

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