Why do the Quakers tremble? I often wonder why
with strong upstanding knotted trunks, eyes squinting to the sky
Could this response be anger or a sign of latent fear?
Or do the boughs rein praises to a God I feel is near?
The woodcock in the wetland, the songbird in the tree
The soul slung in the hammock swaying in a canyon breeze
Why do the Aspens tremble, so shakeable, yet true?
in chlorophylic beauty sound hypnotic tambourines
I’m much too quick to question, consumed with making sense
Life’s worries blow between my ears like words nailed to a fence
“No Parking” (without paying)
Ha! I’ve lived this marker well,
but will my heart beat long enough to learn what trees will tell?
The chipmunk on the boulder,
The moose up to her knees,
absent the day pass, simply living out their days
A quiet life void questions
Of shelter cool and green
Of bugs and Seeds and flowers
Of living wild and free
They do not think or question
Nor do they need belief
Their consciousness wired differently
divinely to His needs
If I were but an Aspen, a primrose or a bee
bequeathed a greater knowledge 0f God’s blessed mysteries
I think I’d be more gentle, more patient and sublime
I’d see with better clarity the truth behind the eyes
I think I’d feel content to breathe a sigh of increased hope
and share the leafy laughter echoed in an Aspen grove