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The hum
Secret must be at the heart
of it — knowing something others
will learn someday, likely not soon.
And maybe happiness has a part —
or contentment at least. We
bear witness to joy any secret keeper
exudes. We hear not a whisper
of the secret. Not even a song.
Glean only hint, an audible clue.
Glaciers hum, Antarctica hums.
Wind whips across the ice shelf,
makes ice move a bit, disturbing
snow. We hear the resulting hum.
High in Colorado, we see mist
shroud steep mountain peaks,
fog belly along streams, crawl
into valleys, obscure tamarack, fir,
spring, stream. We feel wind scud
across scree, past boulders,
over cairns. If we do not breath,
let ear guide us, the hum is clear.
Scientists have found all the Earth
is humming — in F major. The secret
nature hums about likely explains
how to keep the planet from dying.
We do sing, about ourselves. So far,
our grade in humming — F minus.
(republished by Whatcom Watch; first published by Harbinger Asylum)
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Doe and fawn on alert
copyrighted Pilgrim photo |
Rhine River Castle by Mary Dale
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