Heart Of The Matter
All Is Quiet, All Is Well
The sun was high, the day was cold,
The trees, a burnished, burning gold,
The sky is blue, the clouds unseen,
The conifers stand evergreen,
Paths twisting, turning through the wood,
Leaves iced, and slippery, underfoot,
Though fallen, torn, triumphant lay,
Victorious, vibrant, in decay,
Yet sunlight paints a dappled scene,
Through barren branches, in between,
The passing stream belies the cold,
It too, enriched, with autumn gold,
It trickles, glistening on its way,
The sun will end its busy day,
And all is quiet, all is well,
The sun was high, and cold as hell.
Linda Harnett, ©2007
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All Is Quiet, All Is Well
All Is Quiet, All Is Well
