Posted in 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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