• Gary Hunter

The Seventh Day - Jan. 8, 2021

Halleluiah to the earth

resting the final day

the song of a young lark

rides on Sunday’s silence

ears listen in bed

the wind sleeps


this morning

bustle is as unbearable

as the ignition of motors

of needless words

neither seen nor heard


the grass

stretched tall suns itself

safe for the moment

from those other kind of motors

1 view

Recent Posts

See All

all dastardly acts and inglorious behavior lay in the muck of everyone’s river along with those shiny flecks of good deeds and selfless gifts why is it that panning for gold in others is more fruitful

I know my best years my finest years are the ones when love made such an exceptional appearance that I’ll replay them over and over for the rest of my life

when I read a poem I often invite my heart to sit on my shoulder fork in hand and check out what’s being offered she’s a picky eater so when I see her stuffing her mouth I know someone’s cooked up a r