the rhythm of pines park

there’s a rhythm to this life
a backbeat to all our dances
hidden in the everyday noise
of our ordinary survival

we heard it plainly as children
before desires became needs
and needs became burdens
weighing down the music’s tempo

but here, among the pines, it breathes
a sweet steady staccato
stripped of the stress and struggle
that so often drowns it out

here the rhythm flourishes
in its penultimate form
heaven’s own surround sound
filling the soul from earth and sky

in the shallows of its lake
waters ripple to the snap
of a dozen minnows’ tails
disappearing into pebbled nests below

a breeze picks up in quick pursuit
chasing through the crests of waves
trailed by diamond-like reflections
of our distant golden star

tall grass rustles at the water’s edge
rousing squirrels to their hide-and-seek
while waiting on unwanted morsels
abandoned by some picnicker

the pines themselves soon whistle back
as winds cue the various birds
who compete with rap and melody
for the affections of all from above

this is my sanctuary, my church
home to life’s affirmation
where first I spoke to God about you
though we had yet to meet

long have I waited for this day
to sweep you into my arms
and dance to this magical music
till our steps become one with its rhythm.


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