In the Empire of Rustling Leaves

for Diane Seuss

Here close to the center

Of the known world

I administer to an empire

Of rustling leaves

The world is wordless 

But far from silent

Alive with the music of things

The arpeggio of wind as it

Plays up and down the trunks

Of nearby oaks and elms

All the while conducted

By some sightless being

Of each acorn drop

The squirrels duly take note

Nature abhors nothing

Not even a vacuum

But chooses rather to fill it

With a harmony of

Ceaseless pings

Birds are not not-birds

Except when they tweet

Silence offers nothing but

Always comes complete

And the great awakening  

Is really no awakening at all

For although mind may be stilled

The world itself keeps singing

(not sure of the source of this great photo)