The Silent Places

By Jay A. Parry

The silent places, soft and soundless: at

Pasture at dusk, cows grazing quietly;

Boys walking barefoot, laughing, shouting, top

A rise, are gone. The first ways we walk (puffs of

Dust follow our feet, whiff away on the

Wind, pass feeding cows unaware) become

Secret groves where Josephs go, where birds rest

And sing till Joseph comes, then rise and fly—

And heaven’s silence breaks.

The quiet places! A burbling brook

Slipping swiftly into pond silence;

Years sliding slowly through centuries’ swing.

We worship, kneel to face the rising sun,

Whisper;

The white-wisps rumble; the earth resounds—

A final restful “Hush!”

The world relaxes into

Eternities’ arms.