Silence goes with me
across the uncut field and into woods,
too early for morning sounds.
The sun will rise, constant, unchanged.
I plod, turn, tread darkness and shadow,
as the frail moon fades against the sky.
The path down to the creek,
cool and half lost in undawned mist,
knows the echo of my journey,
the echo of my breath.
But only the drifting moon knows
the echo of my heart
as I search each dawn for you,
the constant, unchanged sun.
-Ramey Channell
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