Posted in By J. Randal Matheny, Poetry

The Sparrows Do Not Talk to Me

The sparrows do not talk to me
Of whys and wherefores, means and hows,
Nor do the winds bring breathfully
A scent of law, or whiff of vows.

The valleys are quiet, mountains are mute,
Their very presence unexplained;
The hottest sun’s an ignorant brute —
To silence were they all ordained.

But still they speak eloquently,
The power and wisdom of God proclaimed;
We hear their witness, and all agree —
With one voice the Creator’s named.

JRMatheny © 2015

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