Today I saw

A poem, by William Wordsworth called:

It is a Beauteous Evening, Calm and Free

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
The holy time is quiet as a nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquility;
The gentleness of heaven broods o’er the sea:
Listen! the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder—everlastingly.
Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here,
If thou appear untouched by solemn thought,
Thy nature is not therefore less divine:
Thou liest in Abraham’s bosom all the year,
And worship’st at the Temple’s inner shrine,
God being with thee when we know it not.


From this Wordsworth seed,  grew this: (rather quickly)

Evening’s Rattle

It is a beautiful evening
holy, quiet, calm and free

I run and run toward
the broad sinking sun
until breathless with adoration
I bow, hands on knees

Listen, the twig is awake
and clicking with eternal motion
barely audible over my
breath and thundering heart
barely audible over the deep
fast flowing creek
the giver of resonance

Dear God and God again
who here with me runs.
I hear you!
hear you tapping
tapping out your thoughts
solemn simple clear
sacred code of nature

My inner twig rattles

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