I noticed while walking the trail The soft rustling of a nearby brook, Like sweet conversations between friends, Encouraging the green of the grass To bloom and breathe under the warm caress Of the sun; a bridge mingled with shadows, Guiding me back to a deeper memory— Lost laughter, a whisper of water, And flowers that knew no time, But to sing their colors into the air, Rustling my mind back to a moment Where breath becomes as infinite As the quiet stretching of the hills.

— “Quiet Waters”

• James Wright