The Whippoorwill

Listen now, upon the hill

Can you hear the whippoorwill?

Listen to the quite verse, listen to its song

Open your ears, your heart, through the strident throng

There is a world outside of this world in which we live, in a forest of trees, where the Whippoorwill resides, a world within a world we feel, to hear, to know, or is it too still?

Maybe it’s the walls, barricades, fences and hedges that surround us, tall and deep

The world appears to have abandoned those feelings that seem to want to seep

Yes, they ooze, and puddle on the ground, in tears, when no one

 is around

The Whippoorwill tells us a tale, she tells us to fly, lift your feet up off

the ground

Speak to me, oh, speak to me. I’ll try again, and listen as she speaks to me

Will you listen too, or will you only hear a bird whispering in a forest of trees?