Sometimes this feeling sets in—
as if that whole field of flowers
Some feel that way
when spring unfolds
and sunshine flows
and we listen to the cadence
of downy reds, drumming
their way ’round an old tree trunk.
Others think—as the peepers gather
and the chorus swells—
that these are ordinary sounds.
I believe that what we hear
is simply the beat
of life’s mystical heart.
* * *
“The Nature of Peace,” by Mary O’Connor, Dreams of a Wingless Child, Wheatmark, Tuscon, AZ © 2007