Rain, small drops ever so quite but ever so loud
Rain, the washing of the earth so she might shine
Rain, ever matching my heart beats
Rain, to comfort and smooth the lost soul to peace
Rain, as a mother cry’s for her chid, never to know she would out live him
Rain, the slow wash of the sprite who seeks forgiveness only to find failures in its wake
Rain, it comes and gose just as I come and go within this life for that I welcome it.

Don't got much in life
But I got 6 strings
What better way to deal with strife?
Playing my 6 strings

Don't got much to say
They can talk all day
So I'll let 6 strings talk
They talk so good they might as well walk

Pure words vibrating off their wood
Very loud, more than I ever could
Sometimes they sound sad
They even talk about your dad

Bronze skin but sounds like gold
Never gets old
A constant companion
As strong as a champion

Strummin' like a G...
Chord!
Play em' till I bleed
They're a different kind of breed

So whenever you here a crazy sound
A lovely sound
Harsh sound
Just know it isn't from me
Its from my 6 strings

You are there in air
rustling in leaves
whooshing in sonorous song
chiming in wind among the trees.

Even here on this silver screen
you beam key to key bouncing
exciting protons making small creatures
one character at a time.

You even whisper so quietly
in the daily hum of my life
I rarely hear or notice
the strong power of your love.

How can I miss the soft sound
hiding in the passages of my day
in my every breath
you traveling freely
in every molecule of my being?

I need to try harder
second to second
to listen first
to the sibilant sound
of you tiptoeing
in the background
your acoustic presence
in every step I take
every noise I make
every thought I conceive
you never never leave
me here or anywhere alone.

Sometime you seem nearly silent
until you roar back in the hymns
I can hear if I but listen
for you in the voices
of strangers, enemies and friends.  

You seem invisible
until I open my eyes
to you there in the creases
frowns and smiles
of every person I pass.

You are a symphony
and its composer
I can encounter
if I pay the coin of my attention
in the small moments of my day.

This day I hope
I can wake up
to the holy
all around
in every sight
in every sound
in the silences
tucked away
in between.

Busy humble bumble bees buzz and hum amongst my geraniums.
I squeeze past them as they hover
From flower to flower,
On my way into my electric blue
Kia Rio car.

At last the sun is out here,
Brightening up my garden vista.
Most days we have wallowed
Under a sea fret,
Feeling cold and damp
And annoyed
By news of record high-temperatures
Inland.

But now it’s warm and sunny,
With Red Admiral butterflies
And my back-garden Abelia Shrub –
“Beauty Bush or Pink Cloud” –
Bedecked with light pink flowers
With their subtle aroma.

My days of sport have gone well
And I can sit back in my armchair
And relax.

Paul Butters

© PB 8\6\2018.

If the birds
And the butterflies
Can make trees
Then where would
The bees be

I’ve heard the muezzin’s call at dawn,
Church bells at noon, the gentle twang
Of singing bowls in temples,
The hushed chanting of mantras,
Meditation’s heavy silence.
I’ve heard the waves slapping the beach
Again and again, gull’s protesting.
I’ve heard the earth’s tectonic rumble,
Thunder’s base grumble, thick rain
Falling like window blinds, the wind’s
Subtle ghost whipping through helpless leaves.
I’ve heard magpie’s jabber and crows’ ***** discourse,
The dove’s soft evening prayer.  I’ve heard locusts’
Rhythmic rubbing of skinny stick legs, lizards
Scuttle in dusky corners, unseen things flap
Their wings in the dark. Even the soundless wings
Of butterflies, they say, can change the world.
I’ve heard mountain streams giggling, lazy rivers
Yawning, bubbles of love floating on wet kisses.
There’s no rivalry, no conflict, no violence here
Because all sounds have harmony in common.

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