“Now I will do nothing but listen,
To accrue what I hear into this song, to let sounds contribute toward it.
I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of flames, clack of sticks cooking my meals. . .
Now I will do nothing but listen—this song
in sunshine sweet,
of mockingbird and robin’s trills
the crow’s caws and hawk’s high screech–
the pulsing life in slapping beats
against the river’s flow
constant,
the trees’ arboreal sighs
(slow and steady)
we breath
together—
I sing the body electric,
we drift, grow, go
connected to, all part of
one, none, molecules ignited,
feel them
flaming
the ash of stars
streaming,
under streetlights and moonbeams–
we dream.
Today is the anniversary of Walt Whitman’s birth on May 31, 1819. There have been events all year, and many this week, though somehow, I’ve missed them all.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
Lovely, Merril! Your photos are gorgeous, too. Happy Weekend!
Thank you, Jill. Hope you have a happy weekend, too!
Lovely… I must stop soon, and listen, to the quiet. Eventually it’ll show, right?
Thank you, Dale. I do hope so.
Walt would have been pleased to have prompted this
That’s lovely, Derrick. Thank you!
I love this. And have no other words. ❤
Thank you. ❤
You’ve honored Whitman’s world here, Merril.
Thank you so much, Ken!
This is beautiful. I just read a horoscope today that told me to listen.
“I sing the body electric” is one of those lines that will never grow tired. (K)
I love that my poem matched your horoscope. 🙂 I agree about that line. Thank you, Kerfe.