the quiet places

In the quiet places
like the bench in the park
once you decide to just stay
something magical happens.

The noises change in time
the inside sounds
the running lists of things you’ve forgotten
slowly come to a rest.

Outside sounds begin to wake
and stretch into birds and leaves in the wind
nature’s orchestra is playing
and finally you hear it.

And you listen then
as if your very life depends on the harmonies
because in so many ways
it actually does.


What do you think?

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