Читать книгу Ripples of Stillness - Father Ralph Wright - Страница 7

He knows what deep means —

grief sometimes

hangs upon his features —

sometimes he is beckoned by despair

and is happy

only with no one —

his flights of pleasure

are like dark trees

poplars against a blue sky

ruffled by wind —

and somewhere in between is peace —

the presence of evening with a dying sun

people returning

rooks calling

into the distance —

peace is the silence which he does not hear

the smile or quiet laughter of contentment

breaking gently

almost undetected

into being