Renewed by the clean air and a clear view,
you smell the rain of the morning's storm
Orange impatiens stretch to meet the light
coming through the clouds
Limbs from the tall pine lie still on the ground,
released by the storm
Bare but for a few amber leaves, the dogwood leans
north toward the traffic that roars along the road nearby
The birds go wild with delight at the wet earth
and its waxing favors
Voices, whispering voices, make their chant
and brief shadows show against the houses
You feel the silence of deep repose, utterly
innocent, endless, alive
Not a silence you can know between notes or noise,
yet a hush that is all
The hush that is all, rises all round and within a mind
renewed by the clean air and a clear view
