The Press Of Time Comments

You see thin trees, wood chips, green leaves swaying in the cool air, bushes shaking and bending, ant hills scattered...magnificent. A great poem.

On still days the silence carries the wind's message. Without talking you point to every needed sign. - this poem is so pleasent for my ears! And one common wish in the end uplifts the spirit.

As true now as it was a year ago, and will be a year from now. An eternal poem.

summer's first day, thanks, good one. Please read my poems and comment.