Rushing Of The Rapids

The rushing of the rapids heard,
Soothes.
As does the walk along a path,
Shown to wind through Sun kissed trees.

The quietness heightens...
With soft and cool Summer breezes.
And...
The rushing of the rapids heard.

Birds of different colors flying.
With a landing on the rocks,
To catch the mist from fast pacing rapids,
Making sounds...
Or sending messages I could not interpret,
From birds and other creations of God...
Within this tropical splendor.

And I sit,
At the base of an old oak tree.
Feeling it...
Getting comfortable beneath me.
As if preparing for a welcomed and long visit.

The rushing of the rapids heard,
Soothes.
The rushing of the rapids,
Heard...
Soothes.

And I sit,
At the base of an old oak tree.
Feeling it...
Getting comfortable beneath me.
As if preparing for a welcomed and long visit.

The quietness heightens...
With soft and cool Summer breezes.
And...
That rushing of the rapids,
Heard.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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