Silence humming a humble tune,
Tinged with promise of early Spring:
A song that only few can sing
Through March and April, May ‘til June;
The final notes to Summer’s birth cling
To the quiet presence of noon.

A wordless melody I hear
When out among Nature I tread,
Evenings it feels so far ahead,
But come morning, so close and near,
As if to songbird voice I’m wed,
As if I’m one with doe and deer.

The chorus fills my soul with wind
Home to the North, where life is cold
From Winter’s everlasting hold,
But to my aching heart does mend;
Like Midas, turns my world to gold
In a soft song that never ends:

The Silence of my Yearning Soul.

Brinn W.

This poem was created and written by Brinn Wallin. Please do not steal or copy without permission. 

*All Rights Reserved*