We feel the stillness as we stand

On the broad, shaded slope.

Hear the wind,

Faint, far above us,

Nearing,

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Humming through pines,

Growing louder, louder.



View before us

Buckskin bark of small aspen trees,

Heart-shaped leaves, small, still.



As the mountain wind

Surges past,

We see them twist,

Shiver rapturously,

Then all is quiet again.

The Post Bulletin publishes poetry by local and area writers every Tuesday. Send poems to Meredith Williams at life@postbulletin.com.