the sound of trees

the sound of trees,
i listen, flows,

from roots and leaves,

in and out and in

between earth and sky,

up and down, all through

autumn songs now,

very silent at night,

whispers delight in the sun.

cycles forming rings

and the tree grows 

stronger each year,

his voice is a river

and all the winds

stir only the leaves

rotting sweetly 

in his feet's embrace, 

nourishing the soil

out of which the soul

grows and unfolds

and follows the rhythm,

the tides of eternity,

the waves in which

all changes and dies.

no kiss is sweeter 

than the scent of grass,

no love greater than a tree,

no soul deeper,

so deeply reaching silence,

life and death and birth.

the tree rests mature

in itself and in all,

healing, calm and pure

he sings, he talks , 

not in words

but sound - inside.

his song is memory

of mystery, of origin,

stirring softly all desire

and now i know, again,
we have no other way but
to unfold what cannot be told