Listening At Sunset
In a park, I listen at sunset.
I listen to the whooshing of cars, on the highway over there, behind that stand of trees.
I listen to the insects, waking as dusk descends, starting their nocturnal conversations.
I am still.
Instead of others’ voices, especially the sound of loved ones’ demands and needs,
Instead of my voice, my mind, cluttered in reliving the day, as the day winds down,
I listen to the Divine inside me, faintly broadcasting, as I tune to the frequency.
There It is.
I am listening again,
While under the muting sky, the banter of insects grows louder.
Thank you, Debby.
Debby Rosenberg said: