Sunday, August 29, 2010


I see the sound of his presence but cannot hear him. He is tapping away with a rhythm my impatience mimics. He is hidden behind the fingers of the evergreen trees as he bores into their limbs.

I hear the footsteps in my soul of one I cannot see. The steps are walking with a rhythm echoed by my heart. The presence hidden in the hands holding my heart drawing out all that should not be.