by Leonard M Hawkes

To maintain purity
In such a flood of love,
When humanity tends to spoil
What draws it most--
And yet, she does.

For in the cool
Of early morning
Amid the rush of cars,
The whir of boats,
The croaking of ravens--

I sense tranquility
And even the lingering
Song of isolation
Sung in the silence
Of distant western snow.


Author's Note: Near Chimney Beach

Posted on 07/09/2008
Copyright © 2022 Leonard M Hawkes

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