walking

walking amongst blackened bushes and trees

tawny hillsides, the crunch of gravel,

we hear silence between each footstep, our 

voices rise and fall like our lives, the triumphs

and the depressions, the rainbows and hailstorms

that we watch pass by from the safety of our front

porches, reminded how quickly such storms pass

and how little faith we have in the midst of it.

patience, as the fire burns down slowly and the 

trunks still stand, yes, blackened, but in time, 

so much green comes forth, standing out from

the tawny hillsides that stretch into the distance.